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Photograpiiic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WkST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER, NY.  M580 

(716)  872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographlques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
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wliich  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checlted  below. 


D 


D 

D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagie 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


D 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relii  avec  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
tors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsqua  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  film^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
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une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquis  ci-dessous. 


□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

□    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


D 


Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
('ages  d6color6es,  tacheties  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
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Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  inigale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
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Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  6ditioti  disponible 


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I  I  Pages  detached/ 

I  I  Showthrough/ 

I  I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I  I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I  I  Only  edition  available/ 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
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ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  peture, 
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obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  Si  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  U\mi  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


y 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


|2X 


The  copv  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Univeriity  of  Victoria 
McPherson  Library 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grfice  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

University  of  Victoria 
McPherson  Library 


The  images  appearing  here  ar  /  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
fiU.iirg  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  I'exemplaire  filrn^,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimie  sont  filmds  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  oui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "I,  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END  "), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — •■  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  arid  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  I'nngle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  k  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

(1) 

V, 


Among  the  ] brigands 


Hv 


I',  of.    las.    dc    Millc 


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Nt'w   ^'oik    aiul    li(»toii 


11.    M.    C,i!l("    Cwnii 

PllbllslKTS 


lUMV 


Knteml  ao-onlinR  to  .he  Act  of  Congress. 

in  llie  year  1S71, 

|;y     l.KK    AND    Sill  I'AKI) 

intheOtlK-eof  the  1  .ihrarian  of  Congress, 
;ii  Washington 


Amims  ilie  r.riK.iiicls 


CO]SrTJEN"TS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Stranger  in  a  strange  Land. —  A  Citadel  of  Trunks. — 
Besieged.  —  Retreat  in  good  Order.  —  A  most  tremen- 
dous Uproar.  —  Kici<s  !  Thumps  !  —  Smasli  of  Ciiairs  ! 
—  Crash  of  Tables  !  —  A  general  Row  !  —  The  Cry  for 
Help!  — The  Voice  of  David!  —  The  Revelation  of 
the  Darkness  !  —  The  fiery  Eyes  !  —  The  Unseen  !  — 
The  Revelation  of  the  Mystery.  —  A  general  flight.  . 


PACE 


II 


CHAPTER  II. 

How  in  the  World  did  it  get  there  ?  —  A  joyous  Ride.  — 
Hark  !  Hark  !  The  Dogs  do  bark  !  Beggars  come 
to  Town  ;  some  in  Rags,  some  in  Tags,  and  some  in 
a  tattered  Gown  !  —  A  pleasant  Meditation  on  a  clas- 
sic Past  very  r'  dely,  unexpectedly,  and  even  savagely 
interrupted,  and  likely  to  terminate  in  a  Tragedy  !  — 
Perilous  Position  of  David  and  Clive. 


24 


CHAPTER    III. 

Out  into  the  Country. —  The   Drive. —  The  glorious 
Laud.  —  Sorrento  and  eternal  Summer.  —  The  Cave 

3 


CONTENTS. 

of  Polyphemus.  —  The  Catliedral.  —  The  mysterious 
Image.  —  What  is  it? — David  Rclic-huntin<;{.  —  A 
C.itastrophe.  —  Chased  by  a  \'ira;,'o.  —  The  Town 
roused.  —  Uesictjed.  —  A  desperate  Onset.  —  Flight. 
—  Last  of  the  Virago 39 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Salerno  and  the  sulky  Driver.  —  Picstum  and  its  Tem- 
ples.—  A  great  Sensation.  —  An  unpleasant  Predica- 
ment.—  Is  the  Driver  a  Traitor? —  Is  he  in  League 
with  Bandits?  —  Arguments  about  the  Situation,  and 
what  each  thought  about  it. 


52 


CHAPTER  V. 

They  discuss  the  Situation.  —  They  prepare  to  foot  it. 
—  A  toilsome  Walk,  and  a  happy  Discovery.  —  The 
Language  of  Signs  once  more.  —  The  Mountain  Cdv- 
alcade.  —  Bob's  Ambition.  —  Its  results.  —  Bob  van- 
ishes. —  Consternation  of  the  Donkey  Boy.  —  Con- 
sternation of  the  Cavalcade.  —  "  E  Perduto  ! "  . 


6S 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Flight  of  Bob.  —  Difference  between  a  tame  Donkey 
and  a  wild  Ass.  —  Carried  off  to  the  Mountains. — 
The  headlong  Course.  —  The  Mountain  Pass.  —  The 
Journey's  End.  —  Ill-omened  Place.  —  Confounded  by 
a  new  Terror.  —  The  Brigands.  .  ... 


73 


CONTENTS. 


6 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Lurking-place  of  tlie  Brigands.  —  Tlie  captive  Boy. 

—  The  hideous  Household. —  The  horrible  old  Hag. 

—  The  slattern  Woman.  —  Tlie  dirty  Children.  —  The 
old  Crone  and  the  evil  Eye.  —  Despondency  of  Bob. 

—  Is  Escape  possible  .'  — Night.  —  Imprisoned. — 
The  Bed  of  Straw.  —  Outlook  into  the  Night  from 
the  Prison  Windows gl 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

The  worn-out  Captive.  —  Light  Slumbers.  —  Fearful 
Wakening.  — The  stealthy  Step.  — The  overmaster- 
ing Horror.  —  The  lone  Boy  confronted  by  his  Enemy. 

—  The  hungry  Eyes.  —  Is  it  real,  or  a  Nightmare  ?  — 
The  supreme  Moment q^ 

CHAPTER   IX. 

The  Cavalcade  in  Pursuit.  —  Hopes  and  Fears.  —  The- 
ories about  the  lost  Boy.  —  A  new  Turn  to  Affairs.  — 
Explanations.  —  On  to  Salerno.  —  Inquiries.  — Baf- 
fled. —  Fresh  Consternation  and  Despondency,  —  The 
last  Hope jo2 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  captive  Boy  and  his  grisly  Visitant.  — The  Hand 
on  his  Head.  — Denouement. —  The  Brigand  Family. 
—  The  old  Crone. —  The  Robber  Wife.  — The  Brig- 
and Children.  —  A  Revolution  of  Feeling.  —  The  main 
Road.  —  The  Carriage.  —  In  Search  of  Bob.      .        .no 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

The  Return.  —  The  tender  Adieus.  —  Back  to  Salerno. 

—  On  to  Castellamare.  —  A  pleasant  Scene.  —  An 
unpleasant  Discovery.  —  David  among  the  Missing. 

—  Woes  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  DeIil)erations  over  the 
Situation.  —  Various  Theories.  —  The  Vengeance  of 
the  Enemy.  —  Back  to  Sorrento  in  Search  of  the  loot 
One 


Ii8 


CHAPTER   XII. 

.e  W.iking  of  David.  —  A  glorious  Scene.  —  A  Temp- 
tation. —  David  embarks  upon  the  wide,  wide  Sea.  — 
Youth  at  the  Prov;  and  Pleasure  at  the  Helm.  —  A 
daring  Navigator.  —  A  baffled  and  confounded  Navi- 
gator. —  Lost !  Lost !  Lost  !  —  Despair  of  David. 
—  At  the  Mercy  of  Wind  and  Sea.  —  The  Isle  of  the 
Brigands.  —  The  Brigand  Chief.  .... 


131 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

David  captured.  —  The  big,  bluff,  burly,  brusque,  beard- 
ed, broad-shouldered,  beetle-browed  Bully  of  a  Brig- 
and.—  A  terrific  Inquisition.  —  David's  Plea  for 
Mercy.  —  The  hard-hearted  Captor  and  the  trembling 
Captive.  —  A  direful  Threat.  —  David  carried  off  help- 
less and  despairing. —  The  Robber's  Hold. 


MS 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

On  the  Way  to  Sorrento  again.  —  A  mournful  Ride.  — 
A  despairing  Search.  —  A  fearful  Discovery.  —  The 


CONTENTS. 

old  Virago  again.  — In  a  Trap.  —  Sorrento  aroused. 
—  Besieged.  —  All  lost.  —  A  raging  Crowd.  —  The 
howling  Hag. —  Hurried  Consultation.  —  The  last 
forlorn  Hope.  —  Disguise,  Flight,  and  Concealment. . 


158 


CHAPTER  XV. 

In  the  Robber's  Hold.  — The  Brigand's  Bride.  — Sud- 
den, amazing,  overwhelming,  bewildering,  tremendous, 
astounding,  overpowering,  and  crushing  Discovery. 

—  The  Situation.  —  Everybody  confounded.  —  The 
Crowd  at  Sorrento.  —  The  Landlord's  Prayers.  —  The 
Virago  calls  for  Vengeance i68 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

More  Troubles  for  poor  David.  —  Onset  of  four  Women. 

—  Seized  by  an  old  Crone  and  three  Peasant  Girls. — 
Fresh  Horror  of  David.  —  A  new  Uproar  in  the  Yard 

of  the  Inn.  —  Uncle  Moses  bent  double.    .        .        .  183 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Vesuvius.  —  Ponies  and  Sticks.  —  Sand  and  Lava. — 
The  rocky  Steps.  — The  rolling,  wrathful  Smoke- 
clouds. —  The  Volcano  warns  them  off.  —  The  lost 
Boy.  —  A  fearful  Search.  — A  desperate  Effort  — 
The  sulphurous  Vapors.  — Over  the  sliding  Sands.    . 


191 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Pompeii,  the  City  of  the  Dead.  —  The  Monuments  of 
the  Past.  —  Temples,  Towers,  and  Palaces.  —  Tombs 


CONTENTS. 


and  Monuments.  —  Thea'^-es  and  Amphitheatres.— 
Streets  and  Squares 


203 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Lofty  classical  Enthusiasm  of  David,  and  painful  Lack 
of  Feelinjj  on  the  Part  of  Frank.  —  David,  red  hot 
with  the  Flow  of  .e  Past,  is  suddenly  confronted 
with  the  Present.  —  The  Present  da.shes  cold  Vv^ater 
upon  -lis  glowing  Enthusiasm.  —  The  Ciatcs.  —  Minos, 
./F^cus,  and  Rhadaman thus.  —  The  Culprits.      .        .214 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Glories  of  Naples.  —  The  Museum.  —  The  Curios- 
ities.—  How  they  unroll  the  charred  Manuscripts 
exhumed  from  Hcrculaneum  and  Pompeii.  —On  to 
Rome.  —  Capua.  —  Tiie  Tomb  of  Cicero.  —  Terracina. 

—  The  Pontine  Marsiies.  —  The  Appii  Forum.  .  226 

CHAPTER   XXL 

The  Pontine  Marshes.  —  A  Change  comes  over  the 
Party.  —  The  foul  Exhalations.  —  The  Sleep  of  Death. 

—  Dreadful  Accident.  —  Despair  of  Frank.  —  A  Break- 
down.—  Ingenuity  of  the  Driver.  —  Resumption  of  the 
Journey 233 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  March  ended.  —  A  lonely  Inn.  —  Evil  Faces. — 
Beetling  Brows,  —  Sinister  Glances.  —  Suspicions  of 
the  Party.  —  They  put  their  Heads  together.  —  Con- 


CONTENTS.  P 

ferences  of  the  Party.  — A  threatening  Prospect. — 
Barricades.  —  In  Time  of  Peace  prepare  for  War.— 
The  Garrison  arm  themselves 241 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

The  .sleepless  Watch.  —  The  mysterious  Steps.  —  The 
low  Whispers.  —  They  come  !  They  come  !  —  The 
Garrison  roused.  —  To  Arms  !  To  Arms  !  —  The  be- 
leagueic.i  I  arty.  —  At  Uay.  —  The  decisive  Moment 
—  The  Scalinji  Ladders.  —  Onset  of  the  Brigands.  — 
End  of  Troubles 254 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  beautiful  Country.  —  Magnificent  Scenery.  —  Th„ 
Approach  to  Albano.  —  Enthusiasm  of  the  Boys.  — 
Archajology  versus  Appetitj.  —  The  Separation  of  the 
Boys.  —  The  Story  of  the  Alban  Lake  and  the  ancient 
subterranean  Channel 268 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  lonely  Path.  — The  sequestered  Vale.  — The  old 
House.  —  A  feudal  Castle.  —A  baronial  Windmill. — 
A  mysterious  Sound.  —  A  terrible  Discovery.  —  At 
Bay.  — The  wild  Beast's  Lair!  — What  is  it?  — A 
great  Bore 281 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

Despair  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  Frank  and  Bob  endeavor 
to  offer  Consolation.  —  The  Search.  —  The  Discovery 


to 


CONTENTS. 


at  the  Convent  — The  Guide.  — The  old  House.— 
The  Captives.  —  The  Alarm  given.  —  Flight  of  Uncle 
Moses  and  his  Party.  —  Albans  !  to  the  Rescue!  — 
The  dehvering  Host ! 294 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Arma  Virumque  cano  !  —  The  Chase  of  the  wild  Boar ! 
The  Prisoners  at  the  Window.  — The  Alban  Ar- 
my.—Wild  Uproar. —Three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
Pocket  Handkerchiefs.  —  Flame.  —  Smoking  out  the 
Monster.  —  A  Salamander 


307 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  Salamander  inaccessible  to  Fire.  — The  last  Ap- 
peal.—Frank  takes  Action.  — He  fires.  —  Casualty 
to  Frank  and  Bob.  —  Onset  of  the  Monster.  —  Flight. 
—  Tremendous  Sensation.  —  The  Guide's  Story.— 
Another  Legend  of  Albano.  — On  to  Rome.      .        .  319 


THE  YOUNG  DODGE  CLUB. 


I. 


AMOIfG  THE  BRIGAXDS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Stranger  in  a  strange  Land.  —  A  Citadel  of  Trunis.  —  Be- 
sieged. —  Retreat  in  good  Order.  —  A  most  irfmexdous 
Uproar.  —  Kicks  .'  Thumps .'  —  Smash  of  Ckjurs .'  — 
Crash  of  Tables/ — A  general  Rov .' — The  Cry  for 
Help  ! —  The  Voice  of  David  !  -  The  Rd'claiwrn  ef  the 
Darkness  !  —  The  fiery  Eyes  !  —  The  Unscem.  /  —  Tkt 
Revelation  of  the  Mystery,  —  A  general  Fight. 


■ui^i/gR.  MOSES  V.  SPROLE  had  passed  the 
J^jg^  greater  part  of  his  life  in  his  native 
^^^T  viUage,  and  being  anxious  to  see  the 
world,  resolved  upon  a  tour  in  Europe.  As  he 
did  not  care  to  go  alone,  he  offered  to  fc  e  with 
him  his  four  nephews,  who  were  great  fevor- 
ites  with  their  bachelor  uncle,  and  his  chief  as- 
sociates. This  offer  met  with  an  eager  response 
from  the  boys,  and  a  willing  assent  from  their 
parents,  wiio  fully  believed  that  a  tour  of  this 
description  would  be  of  immense  benefit  to  them. 
This  brief  explanation  will  serve  to  acconnt  for 
the  appearance  of  Uncle  Moses  in  Naples,  where 

11 


12 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


he  landed  on  a  mellow  day  in  February,  en  route 
for  Switzerland,  bowed  down  with  the  responsibili- 
ty of  several  heavy  trunks,  and  the  still  heavier 
responsibility  of  four  fine  lumps  of  boys,  of  whose 
troubles,  trials,  tribulations,  and  manifold  adven- 
tures, he  seemed,  on  the  present  occasion,  to  have 
a  mournful  presentiment. 

These  troubles  began  at  once ;  for  scarcely  had 
tliey  landed  when  they  found  themselves  sur- 
rounded by  the  lazzaroni,  and  the  air  was  filled 
with  a  babel  of  exclamations. 

"Si(j7iori!"  "Siguo!"  ^'3foosoo!''  ^'Meesfaire!-' 
"  Sare !  "  "  Carrn  ze  baytjcu/e ! "  "  Tek  ze  loggage !  " 
"  Show  ze  hotel ! "  "  Hotd  della  Europa  !  "  "  Hotel 
dell'  Inyhelterra  ! "  "  Hotel  ddV  Americci ! "  *'  Uc- 
cellenza,  you  wania  good,  naisy,  rosbif,  you  comma 
longsida  me !  "  "  Come  long !  "  "  Hurrah ! " 
"  Bravo ! "  "  0,  yais."  "  Vcr  nais."  "  0,  yais. 
You  know  me.     American  3Jeestaire  1 " 

All  this,  and  ever  so  much  more,  together  with 
scraps  of  French,  German,  Bohemian,  Hungarian, 
Russian,  and  several  other  languages  which  the 
lazzaroni  had  picked  up  for  the  purpose  of  making 
themselves  agreeable  to  Ibreigners.  They  sur- 
rounded Uncle  Moses  and  his  lour  boys  in  a  dense 
crowd  —  grinning,  chattering,  gesticulating,  dan- 
cing, pushing,  jumping,  and  grimacing,  as  only 
Neapolitan  lazzaroni  can;  and  they  tried  to  get 
hold  of  the  luggage  that  lay  upon  the  wharf 

Ragged,  hatless,  shirtless,  blessed  with  but  one 


LAZZARONI. 


13 


ono 


pair  of  trousers  per  man ;  bearded,  dirty,  noisy ; 
yet  fat  and  good-natured  withal ;  the  lazzaroni  prO' 
duced  a  startling  effect  upon  the  newly  arrived 
travellers. 

Uncle  Moses  soon  grew  utterly  bewildered  by 
the  noise  and  disorder.  One  idea,  however,  was 
prominent  in  his  mind,  and  that  was  his  luggage. 
He  had  heard  of  Italian  brigands.  At  the  sight  of 
this  crowd,  all  that  he  had  heard  on  that  subject 
came  back  before  him.  "  Rinaldo  Rinaldini,"  a 
charming  brigand  book,  which  had  been  the  delight 
of  his  childhood,  now  stood  out  clear  in  his  recol- 
lection. The  lazzaroni  seemed  to  be  a  crowd  of 
bandits,  filled  with  but  one  purpose,  and  that  was 
to  seize  the  luggage.  The  efforts  of  the  lazzaroni 
to  get  the  trunks  roused  him  to  action.  Springing 
forward,  he  struck  their  hands  away  with  a  formida- 
ble cotton  umbrella,  and  drew  the  trunks  together 
in  a  pile.  Three  lay  in  a  row,  and  one  was  on  the 
top  of  these.     The  pile  was  a  small  pyramid. 

"  Here,  boys,"  he  cried ;  "  you  keep  by  me. 
Don't  let  those  varmints  get  the  trunks.  Sit  down 
on  'em,  and  keep  'cm  off." 

Saying  this,  Uncle  Moses  put  the  two  Clark  boys 
on  a  trunk  on  cuio  side,  and  the  two  Wilmot  boys 
on  a  trunk  on  the  other;  and  mounting  himself 
upon  the  middle  trunk,  he  sat  down  and  glared 
defiantly  at  the  enemy. 

This  action  was  greeted  by  the  lazzaroni  with  a 
burst  of  laughter  and  a  shout  of,  — 


14 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS, 


"  Bi-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ra-vo !  " 

To  which  Uncle  Moses  and  tlio  boys  made  no 
reply.  In  tact,  it  would  have  been  a  little  difficult 
for  them  to  do  so,  as  not  one  of  them  understood  a 
word  of  any  language  spoken  among  men  except 
their  own.  So  they  said  nothing;  but  constituting 
themselves  into  a  beleaguered  garrison,  they  in- 
trenched themselves  within  their  citadel,  and  bade 
defiance  to  the  foe. 

The  foe,  on  the  other  hand,  pressed  round  them, 
bombarding  the  garrison  with  broken  English, 
broken  French,  and  broken  German,  and  some- 
times made  an  assault  upon  the  trunks. 

Time  passed  on,  and  the  garrison  sat  there,  hold- 
ing their  own.  At  length  they  all  became  aware 
of  the  fact  that  they  were  excessively  hungry.  It 
was  very  evident  that  this  kind  of  thing  could  not 
last  much  longer. 

Meanwhile  Uncle  Moses  had  recovered  liis 
presence  of  mind.  He  was  naturally  cool  and  self- 
possessed,  and  after  mounting  the  trunks,  and 
gathering  the  boys  about  him,  he  quickly  rallied 
from  his  confusion,  and  looked  eagerly  around  to 
find  some  way  by  which  he  might  be  extricated 
from  his  diffic  ilty. 

At  last  a  way  appeared. 

Around  him,  in  his  immediate  neighborhood, 
stood  the  lazjjaroni,  as  urgent,  as  patient,  and  as 
aggressive  as  ever,  with  their  offers  of  assistance. 
Beyond  these  were  people  passing  up  and  down 


DESCRIPTION   OF   THE   BOYS. 


15 


the  wharf,  all  of  whom  were  foreigners,  and  there- 
fore inaccessible.  Beyond  these  again  was  a 
wide  space,  and  in  the  distance  a  busy  street,  with 
carriages  driving  to  and  fro. 

Uncle  Moses  looked  lor  a  long  time,  hoping  to 
see  something  like  a  cab.  In  vain.  They  all 
seemed  to  him  to  be  "  one-hoss  shays,"  and  what 
was  worse,  all  seemed  to  be  filled. 

"  Boys,"  said  he  at  last,  "  I'm  g  'in'  to  make  a 
move.  You  jest  sit  here,  and  hold  on  to  the  trunks. 
I'll  go  an  hunt  up  one  of  them  one-hoss  shays. 
There  ain't  nothin'  else  that  I  can  do.  Hold  on 
now,  hard  and  fast,  till  I  come  back." 

With  these  words  off  went  Uncle  Moses,  and  the 
boys  remained  behind,  waiting. 

A  very  fine-looking  set  of  boys  they  were  too. 

There  was  Frank  VVilmot,  about  fifteen  years  of 
age,  tall,  stout,  with  fine,  frank  face,  ami  crisp, 
curly  hair. 

There  was  Clive  Wilmot,  about  fourteen,  tall  and 
slight,  with  large  eyes  and  dark  hair. 

There  was  David  Clark,  about  Frank's  age, 
!  ^-  ,er  pale,  with  serious  face,  and  quiet,  thoughtful 
manner. 

And  there  was  Robert,  or,  as  he  was  always 
called.  Bob  Clark  —  an  odd-looking  boy,  witli  a 
bullet  head,  pug  nose,  comical  face,  brown  eyes, 
and  short  shingled  hair. 

Uncle  Moses  was  not  gone  long.  By  some 
wonderful  means  or  other  he  had   succeeded  in 


16 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


procuring  a  vehicle  of  that  kind  which  is  universal 
in  this  city,  and  he  now  reappeared  to  tlio  de- 
lighted boys,  coining  at  a  tearing  pace  towards 
them,  seated  in  a  Neapolitan  caleche. 

The  Neapolitan  caleclie  is  a  wonderful  machine, 
and  quite  unequalled  among  wheeled  vehicles. 
The  wheels  are  far  back,  the  shafts  are  long,  and 
one  horse  draws  it.  But  in  the  caleche  it  is  a  very 
common  thing  for  any  quantity  of  people  to  pilo 
themselves.  There  is  a  seat  for  two,  which  is 
generally  occupied  by  the  most  worthy,  perhaps ; 
but  all  around  them  cluster  others,  —  behind  them, 
before  them,  and  on  each  side  of  them, —  clinging 
to  the  shafts,  standing  on  the  axle,  hanging  on  the 
springs.  Indeed,  I  have  heard  of  babies  being 
slung  underneath,  in  baskets ;  but  I  don't  believe 
that. 

At  any  rate.  Uncle  Moses  and  his  party  all 
tumbled  in  triumphantly.  Two  trunks  were  put 
in  front,  one  behind,  and  one  suspended  under- 
neath. David  and  Clive  sat  behind,  Frank  and 
Uncle  Moses  on  the  seat,  while  Bob  sat  on  the 
trunk  in  front,  with  the  driver.  The  lazzaroni 
looked  on  with  mournful  faces,  but  still  profifered 
their  services.  In  patient  perseverance  few  peo- 
ple can  equal  them. 

The  driver  saw  at  once  the  purpose  of  the 
Americans,  though  they  could  not  tell  him  what 
they  wanted.  So  he  drove  them  to  a  hotel  in 
the  Strada  Toledo,  where  ho  left  them,  after  having 


TREMKND0U3  UPROAR. 


IT 


been  paid  by  Uncle  Moses  the  larj^cst  fare  he  had 
ever  received  in  iiia  lite  ;  for  Uncle  Aloses  gave 
him  about  five  dollars,  and  felt  grateful  to  him 
besides. 

Their  apartments  were  very  nice  rooms  in  the 
sixth  story.  The  hotel  was  a  quadrangular  edifice, 
with  a  spacious  cfuirt-yard.  Around  this  court-yard 
ran  galleries,  opening  into  each  stor}',  and  com- 
municating with  one  another  by  stairways,  which 
were  used  by  all  the  occupants  of  the  house. 

From  the  gallery  in  the  sixth  story  a  door 
opened  into  their  parlor.  On  the  left  side  of  this 
was  a  snug  bedroom,  of  which  Uncle  Moses  took 
possession ;  on  the  right  side  was  another,  which 
Avus  appropriated  by  David  and  Clive  ;  while  the 
third,  which  was  on  the  other  side,  and  looked  out 
into  the  street,  was  taken  by  Frank  and  Bob. 

Thus  the  four  boys  paired  of!',  and  made  them- 
selves very  comfortable. 

That  night  they  all  went  to  bed  early.  Uncle 
Moses  retired  last.  All  slept  soundly,  for  they 
were  very  much  fatigued. 

But  just  before  daybreak,  and  in  the  dim  morn- 
ing twilight,  Frank  and  Bob  were  suddenly  roused 
by  a  most  tremendous  uproar  in  the  parlor  —  kicks, 
thum})s,  tables  upsetting,  chairs  breaking,  and  a 
general  row  going  on ;  in  the  midst  of  which  din 
arose  the  voice  of  David,  calling  frantically  upon 
themselves  and  Uncle  Moses. 

This  was  certainly  enough  to  rouso  anybody. 
2 


18 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Up  jumped  Frank,  and  rushed  to  the  door. 

Up  jumped  Bob.  and  sprang  after  him. 

The  noise  outside  was  outrageous.  What  was 
it?  Could  it  be  robbers?  No.  Robbers  would 
prefer  to  do  their  work  in  silence.     What  was  it? 

Slowly  and  cautiously  Frank  opened  the  door, 
and  looked  forth  into  the  parlor.  It  was  as  yet 
quite  dark,  and  the  room  into  which  he  peered  was 
wrapped  in  the  shades  of  night.  What  little  he 
could  see  he  saw  but  indistinctly.  Yet  he  saw 
something. 

He  saw  a  dark,  shadowy  figure  in  rapid  motion 
backward  and  forward,  and  at  every  movement 
some  article  of  furniture  would  go  with  a  crash  to 
the  floor.  Sometimes  the  figure  seemed  to  be  on 
the  table,  at  other  times  it  was  leaping  in  the  air. 
Suddenly,  as  he  looked,  the  door,  which  opened  out 
into  the  parlor,  was  banged  back  with  a  violent 
blow,  and  shut  again.  Frank  was  nearly  knocked 
down. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Bob. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Frank,  "  unless  it's  a  mad- 
man." 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

"If  we  were  all  together,"  said  Frank,  "  we 
might  make  a  rush  at  him,  and  secure  him.  I've  a 
great  mind  to  make  a  start,  as  it  is." 

"  It  must  be  a  brigand  !  "  said  Bob  ;  for  his  mind, 
like  the  minds  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  was  largely 
filled  with  images  of  Italian  bandits. 


THE   CONSULTATION. 


19 


"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Frank  ;  "  but  at  any  rate  let's 
make  a  rush  at  liim.     Will  you  do  it?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Boh. 

At  this  Frank  oarei'ully  opened  the  door  again, 
and  looked  i'ortii.  The  noise  had  ceased  for  the 
time.  Bob  poked  his  head  forth  also.  They  looked 
eagerly  into  the  room. 

Suddenly  Frank  touched  Bob. 

"  Look  !  "  he  whispered,  "  by  the  table." 

Bob  looked. 

It  was  certainly  a  singular  sight  that  met  their 
view.  In  the  midst  of  the  gloom  they  could  see 
two  balls  of  light  that  seemed  like  eyes,  though 
there  was  no  form  visible  to  which  these  glaring, 
fiery  eyes  might  belong.  And  tiie  eyes  seemed  to 
glare  out  of  the  darkness  directly  at  them.  All 
was  still  now ;  but  the  very  stillness  gave  ad- 
ditional horror  to  that  unseen  being,  whose  dread 
gaze  seemed  to  bo  fastened  upon  them. 

Suddenly  David's  voice  was  heard  from  the 
next  room,  — 

"  Frank  !     Bob  !  " 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  both  boys. 

"  What  shall  we  do?    Can't  you  do  something?  " 

"  I'll  see,"  cried  Frank.     "  Bob,  light  the  lamp." 

"  I  haven't  any  matches,"  said  Bob. 

"  What  a  pity  !  "  said  David.  "  Can't  you  wake 
Uncle  Moses  ?     Your  room  is  next  to  his." 

At  this  Bob  went  to  the  wall  between  his  room 
and  that  of  Uncle  Moses,  and  began  to  pound  with 


20 


AMONG   THE   BHTGANDS. 


all  his  might.  Undo  Mo.ses  did  not  respond,  but 
there  came  a  response  from  another  (luarter.  It 
was  from  the  thing  in  the  parlor.  (Jneo  more  the 
fearful  uproar  began.  Crash  !  went  the  chairs. 
Bang!  went  the  tahk's.  A  rapid  racket  of  liard 
footiiiUs  succeeded,  mingled  with  the  smash  of  the 
furniture. 

Frank  closed  tiie  door. 

"  If  1  only  had  a  Hgiit,"  said  he,  "  I  should  know 
what  to  do.  But  what  can  a  fellow  do  in  the 
dark?" 

"  I  wonder  what's  the  matter  with  Uncle 
Moses." 

"  He?     0,  he  would  sleep  through  anything." 

"  I  wonder  if  it  is  a  brigand,  ai"ter  all,"  said  Bob. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  still  think  it  may  be  a 
madman." 

"  I  don't  like  those  glaring  eyes." 

"If  I  only  had  a  fair  chance,  and  could  see," 
said  Frank,  fiercely,  "  I'd  soon  find  out  what  is 
behind  those  glaring  eyes." 

Louder  grew  the  din  while  they  were  speaking 
—  the  rattle,  the  bang,  the  smash,  the  general  con- 
fusion of  deafening  sovmds. 

"I  should  like  tO  know,"  said  Frank,  coolly, 
"  how  much  longer  this  sort  of  thing  is  going 
to  last." 

For  some  time  longer  the  boys  kept  the  door 
shut,  and  the  noise  at  length  ceased  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  begun.     It  had  now  grown  much  lighter, 


THE    REVELATION. 


21 


for  in  these  southern  countries  twilight,  whether 
in  tlie  morning  or  the  ovening,  is  hut  of"  short  (hira- 
tion,  and  liglit  advances  or  retires  witli  a  rapidity 
wliieh  is  startling  to  the  natives  of  more  nortiiern 
latitudes. 

T'  is  increase  of  liglit  gave  fresh  courage  to 
Frank,  who,  evi-n  in  the  dark,  and  in  the  face  of 
the  mystery,  had  behaved  very  well ;  and  he  began 
to  arrange  a  j)lan  of  action.  His  arrangements 
were  soon  completed.  lie  simply  drew  a  jackknife 
from  his  pocket,  and  opened  it. 

"  Now,  Bob,''  said  he,  "  you  follow  me." 

"  AH  right,"  said  Bob,  cheerily. 

Frank  (quietly  opened  the  door,  and  looked  forth, 
while  Bob,  in  eager  curiosity,  looked  out  the  same 
instant.  There  was  now  sulHcient  light  for  them 
to  see  every  object  in  the  room.  A  scene  of  wild 
disorder  revealed  itself.  All  the  furniture  was 
turned  topsy-turvy.  The  door  leading  to  the 
gallery  was  open,  and  there,  befcjrc  their  eyes, 
standing  on  the  sofa,  was  the  being  that  had 
created  such  excitement. 

One  look  was  enough. 

One  cry  escaped  both  the  boys :  — 

"  A  billy  goat !  A  miserable  billy  goat !  "  cried 
they. 

And  the  next  moment  both  of  them  sprang  for- 
ward, and  seized  the  animal  by  the  horns. 

Then  began  a  struggle.  The  goat  was  strong. 
lie   was   also  excited    by  the   singularity  of  his 


22 


AMOXt;    THK    IIItUJANnS. 


Hurroundings  and  the  suddciiMCss  (tf  tlio  nttack. 
So  ho  showed  light,  and  rosistcMl  di'spcrately. 
Frank  and  Bob,  however,  cinng  most  tenaciously 
to  the  horns  which  they  had  seizeii.  Backward 
and  forward  the  conihatants  jiushed  and  dragged 
one  another,  with  a  new  uproar  as  hnid  as  the 
pr(*vi()us  one. 

In  the  luidst  of  this  they  were  interrn[)ted  by 
the  api)earance  of  Uncle  Moses. 

The  door  oi'  iiis  room  opened,  and  tliat  venerable 
personage  made  his  appeaiance  in  a  long  night- 
gown, wliich  reached  to  his  heels,  and  wearing  a 
long,  starched  night-cap,  wliich  nearly  touched  the 


"  Wal,  1  never  ! ''  was  his  ejitculation.  "  What's 
this,  boys?  Why,  whatever  air  you  doin'  with 
that  thar  goat?" 

The  boys  returned  no  answer,  for  they  were 
struggling  with  their  enemy.  Hy  this  time  David 
and  Clive  made  their  appearance,  and  each  sei/.ed 
one  of  the  goat's  hind  legs.  This  additional  help 
decided  the  contest.  The  animal  was  thrown 
down  imd  held  there,  still  kicking  and  struggling 
violently. 

Scarcely  had  tliey  taken  breath  when  there  was 
another  interruption.  This  time  it  was  at  the  out- 
side door.  A  burly  Italian  made  his  a{)pearance 
there  —  very  brown,  very  bearded,  very  dirty,  and 
very  unsavory.  For  some  time  he  stood  without 
saying  one  word,  staring  into  the  room,  and  fixing 


A   GENERAL   FIGHT. 


23 


his  eyes  now  on  the  goat  as  it  was  held  down  by 
the  boys,  again  on  the  broken  furniture,  and  finally 
on  the  long,  and  somewhat  ghostly  figure  of  Unele 
Moses. 

"  Santissima  Madre  !  " 

This  was  the  exclamation  that  at  last  burst  from 
the  big,  burly,  brown,  bearded,  dirty,  and  unsavory 
Italian.  At  this  the  boys  looked  up,  unconsciously 
loosening  their  grasp  as  they  did  so.  The  goat, 
focliug  the  grasp  relax,  made  a  mighty  effurt,  and 
rolled  over.  Then  he  leaped  to  his  feet.  Then  ho 
made  a  wild  bound  to  the  door,  over  the  prostrate 
forms  of  David  and  Clive.  The  big,  burly,  brown, 
bea^'ded,  dirty,  and  unsavory  Italian  made  an  elfort 
to  evade  the  animd's  charge.  lie  was  not  quick 
enougli.  Down  he  went,  struck  full  in  the  breast, 
and  away  went  the  goat  into  the  gallery,  and  down 
the  stairs,  and  so  into  the  outer  world. 


24 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  II. 


How  in  the  World  did  it  qet  there  ?  —  A  joyous  Ride.  — 
Hark  /  Hark  !  The  Doiis  do  hark!  Begi^ars  come  to 
Town ;  some  in  /\!ai;s\  some  in  Taj^s,  and  some  in  a  tat- 
tered Gown  .'  —  A  pleasant  Meditation  on  a  classic  Past 
very  rudely,  unexpectedly,  and  ei'en  saznii^ely  interrupted, 
and  likely  to  terminate  in  a  Trai^edy .'  —  Perilous  Posi- 
tion of  David  and  Clive. 


^t 


/Q^ORTUXATELY,    no    bones    were   broken. 
J^^      The  Italian  slowly  picked  liiniselt'  up,  and 


casting  a  stupid  look  at  the  boys,  moved 
slowly  awi'.y,  leaving  the  occupants  ol'  the  room 
standing  there  in  their  night-clothes,  and  earnest- 
ly discussing  the  (juestion, — IIow  in  the  world  did 
the  goat  get  there? 

This  was  indeed  a  knotty  question,  till  at  length 
it  was  unravelled  by  Uncle  Moses. 

"  Wal,  I  declar,"  said  he,"  of  I  didn't  go  an  leave 
the  door  open." 

•'  You  !  "  cried  all. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.  "  You  see  it  was  dreadful 
close  an  suilVicatin  last  night ;  so  when  you  went 
to  bed,  I  jest  left  that  door  open  to  cool  oti".  Then 
I  went  oil'  to  bed,  and  I'orgot  all  about  it." 


HOW   IX   THE   WORLD    DID    IT   GET   THERE?        25 


Tfiiit  was  clear  enoup;!!  as  far  as  it  went,  Imt  ?til!I 
it  did  not  account  for  the  presence  of  a  g^c^a!  in 
the  sixth  story  of  a  hotel.  Tliis  they  founi  out 
afterwards.  That  very  day  they  saw  flooks  <»f 
goats  being  driven  about  from  house  to  hona-e. 
At  other  times  they  saw  goats  in  their  own  hiAeL 
They  wrc  hoisted  up  to  the  various  stories, 
milked,  and  left  to  find  their  way  down  thems^clves. 
The  fashion  of  using  goat's  milk  was  universal, 
and  this  was  the  simple  way  in  which  families 
were  supplied.  As  to  their  visitor,  the  billy  cx)at, 
he  was  undoubtedly  the  patriarch  of  ?ome  iS'txrk, 
who  had  wandered  up  stairs  himself,  perhaps  in  a 
fit  of  idl(^  curiosity. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  dark,"  said  Frank.  ^  Ifit 
hadn't  been  so  aboiuinaltly  dark  !  " 

"  We  were  like  Ajax,"  said  David,  —  who  wTi?  a 
bit  of  a  pedant,  nnd  dealt  largely  in  classical  alin- 
sions,  —  "we  weio  like  Ajax,  you  know:  — 

'  Give  us  but  iij^lit,  and  let  us  see  our  focp, 
W  j'll  bravely  full,  though  Jove  himself  oppose.* ' 

"0,  that's  all  very  well,"  said  Uncle  Moses: 
"but  who's  goin  to  pay  for  all  that  thar  fumiioor? 
The  goat  can't." 

"  L'ncle  Moses,"  said  Bob,  gravely,  "  there's  a 
great  deal  in  what  you  say." 

Uncle  Moses  turned  away  with  a  look  of  C'>n- 
cem  in  his  mild  i'ace,  and  retreated  into  his  r«:<-in. 

(It  may  as  well  bo  stated  here,  that  Uncle  Mi»j<es 


26 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS, 


had  to  pay  for  that  furniture.  The  landlord  called 
up  an  interpreter,  and  they  had  a  \ou^  and 
somewhat  exciting  interview.  It  ended  in  the 
landlord's  recovering  a  sum  of  money  whicli  wa.s 
sufheient  to  furnish  a  whole  suit  of  apartments 
in  another  part  of  the  house.) 

Heing  now  fairly  introduced  to  Naples,  the  boys 
were  all  eager  to  see  the  place  and  its  surround- 
ings, and  Uncle  Moses  was  quite  willing  to  gratify 
them  in  any  way.  So  they  hired  a  carriage,  ibund 
a  guide,  named  Michael  Angelo,  who  could  speak 
English,  and,  thus  equipped,  they  set  out  first 
for  Baiie. 

Through  the  city  they  went,  through  the  crowded 
streets;  past  the  palaces,  cathedrals,  gardens; 
past  the  towers,  castles,  and  quays;  till  at  last 
there  arose  before  them  the  mighty  (irotto  of  l*o- 
silipo.  Through  this  they  drove,  looking  in  aston- 
ishment at  its  vast  dimensions,  and  also  at  the 
crowds  of  people  who  were  passing  through  it,  on 
foot,  on  horseback,  and  on  wheels.  Then  they 
came  to  Pozzuoli,  the  place  where  St.  Paid  once 
landed,  and  which  is  mentioned  in  the  New  Testa- 
mi'nt  under  its  ancient  name  —  Puteoli. 

Here  they  were  b(^set  by  l)eggars.  The  sight 
of  this  f»ro<luced  strange;  ell'ecis  upon  the  htthj 
party.  Uncle  Moses,  fillod  with  l>ity,  lavished 
money  upon  them  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances 
of  the  guide.  CMve's  sensitive  nature  shuddered 
at  the  spectacle.    Frank  tried  to  speak  a  few  words 


BEGOAUS. 


27 


of  Italian  to  them,  which  he  liad  caught  from  Mi- 
chael Angelo.  David  iniittercfl  something  abonu 
the  ancient  Romans,  while  Eol)  kept  humming  to 
himself  these  elegant  verses  :  — 

"  Hark  !  hark  I    The  dogs  do  bark ! 
Bey.Ljiirs  conio  to  town, 
Some  in  raers,  some  in  tags, 
Some  in  a  tattere(?  ^own  I  " 

The  beggars  followed  them  as  far  as  they  could, 
and  wiien  they  left  them,  reiinforcements  always 
arrived. 

Thus  they  were  beset  by  them  at  the  crater  oi' 
the  extinct  volc-no  of  Solfatuva. 

They  encountered  them  at  the  gateway  of 
Cumic, 

At  the  Grotto  of  the  Cunijean  Sibyl, 

At  Nero's  Baths, 

At  the  Lucrine  Lake, 

At  Bai;u, 

At  Misenum, 

In  fact  everywhere. 

Still,  tliey  enjoyed  themselves  very  well,  and 
kept  up  their  pursuit  of  sights  until  late  in  the 
day.  They  were  then  at  I>ai;e;  and  here  the  party 
stopped  at  a  little  inn,  where  they  proposed  to 
dine.  Here  the  beggars  beset  them  in  fresh 
crowds,  till  Uncle  Moses  was  compelled  to  close 
iiis  purse,  and  tear  himself  away  from  his  clanutr- 
ous  visitants.  Frank  and  Bob  went  off  to  see  if 
they  could  find  some  donkeys,  ponies,  or  horses,  so 


28 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


as  to  havo  a  rido  after  dinner;  while  David  and 
Clive  strolled  oil'  towards  the  country. 

"Come,  Clive,"  said  David,  "let  Frank  and  Bob 
enjoy  their  jackasses.  For  my  part,  I  want  to  get 
to  some  place  Avlierc  1  can  sit  down,  and  see  tliis 
glorious  land.  It's  the  most  classic  spot  in  all  the 
world." 

"It's  the  nicist  licautiful  and  poetic,"  said  Clive, 
Avho  was  given  to  sentiment. 

Walking  on,  th(>y  came  to  a  j)lace  which  pro- 
jected into  the  sea,  and  here  they  sat  down. 

"  O,  what  a  glorious  sight !  "'  exclaimed  Clive. 
"Look  at  this  v»'ondei'i"id  Day  of  Naples!  IIow  in- 
tensely blue  tlic  watfM"  is  !  IIow  intensely  blue 
the  sky  is!  And  look  at  Vesuvius  opposite.  What 
an  immense  amount  of  smoke  is  coming  from  the 
crater !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  clearing  his  throat,  "  this  is 
the  place  that  tlie  elder  Pliny  sailed  I'rom  at  the 
time  of  the  destruction  of  Ilerculaneum  and  Pom- 
peii. And  look  all  around.  That  little  town  was 
once  the  luxurious  Daite.  Over  yonder  is  Lake  Lu- 
crine,  which  Virgil  sings  about.  On  that  side  is 
Misenum,  where  the  Eoman  nav)-  lay.  'J'here  is 
Caligula's  Di'idge.  What  a  glorious  [jlace  !  Evcuy- 
thing  thitt  we  juive  ever  r(.'ad  of  in  classic  story 
gathers  abcuil  us  hei'e.  Cicero,  Ca-sar,  Horace, 
Viigii.Tiberins.  and  .Juvenal,  seem  to  live  here  yet. 
Nero  ami  Agrlp]>ii)a,  Caligula  and  Claudius, — 
every  old  Poiiian,  good  or  iiad.     And  look,  Clive, 


BEGGARS. 


29 


that  is  land  out  there.     As  I  live,  that  is  Caprrea! 
Ai)(l  see,  — (),  see,  Clive,  —  that  must  be  tiio  —  " 

"  Dutemi  un  carJhio,  sijnori,  j^er  V  amor  di  Dio. 
Sono  povero  —  moUo  povcro  !  " 

It  was  in  tlio  middle  of  David's  rather  incohe- 
rent rhapsody  that  these  words  burst  upon  his  ears. 
He  and  Clive  started  to  their  feet,  and  found  close 
behind  them  a  half  dozen  of  those  miserable  beg- 
gars. Two  of  them  were  old  men,  wh.ose  bleary 
eyes  and  8too])ing  frames  indicated  extreme  age. 
One  Avas  a  woman  on  crutches.  Number  Four  was 
a  thin,  consumptive-looking  man.  Nnml»er  Five 
and  Number  »Six  were  strong-limbed  lellows,  with 
very  villanous  faces.  It  was  with  one  universal 
whine  that  these  unwelcome  visitors  addressed 
the  boys. 

"  Datemi  un  carlhto,  slgnori,  per  V  amor  di  Dio." 

David  shook  his  head. 

"  Sono  misernbile,"  said  Number  Five. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  David. 

"  Koi  abbidm  fnrne'^  said  Number  Six. 

"  JVb;i  capisco,''  said  Clive,  Avho  had  learned  that 
much  Italian  from  Michael  Angelo. 

"  0,  signori  nohilissime  !  " 
I  tell  you,  I  don't  understand,''  cried  David. 
Non  eapifico,'"  repeated  Clive. 

"  Siamo  dvsperati, '^  snid  Number  Six,  with  a  sin- 
ister gleam  in  his  eyes,  which  neither  of  the  boys 
liked. 

"  Come,  Clive,"  said  David,  "  let's  go  back.  Din- 
ner must  bo  ready  by  this  time." 


(I 

u 


AMONO   THE   BRIGANDS. 


And  tlioy  turned  to  go. 

But  as  tlioy  turned,  Number  Five  and  Nuinlter 
Six  placed  tlieniselves  in  the  way. 

"  Date  qualche  cosa,"  they  whined  ;  and  each  of 
them  seized  a  boy  by  tlio  arm.  'J'he  boys  tried  to 
jerk  their  arms  away,  but  couUl  not. 

"  Let  us  go,"  cried  David,  "  or  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  you." 

The  two  beggars  now  talked  in  Italian  without 
relaxing  their  hold.  Then  they  tried  to  pull  the 
boys  away ;  but  the  boys  resisted  bravely,  and 
began  to  shout  for  help.  At  this  the  other  beg- 
gars came  forward  menacingly,  and  Numl)er  Five 
and  Number  Six  put  their  arms  round  the  boys, 
and  their  hands  over  their  mouths.  Neither  David 
nor  Clive  could  now  utter  a  cr}'.  They  could 
scarcely  breathe.  Thev  were  at  the  mercv  of  these 
miscreants  ! 

It  was,  in  truth,  a  ])erilous  position  in  Avhich 
David  and  Clive  found  themselves.  Those  I'agged 
rascals,  the  beggars,  wore  as  remorseless  as  they 
were  ragged.  They  had  the  boys  at  their  mercy. 
The  place  Avas  sufficiently  far  from  the  town  to  be 
out  of  hearing  ;  and  though  the  road  was  near,  yet 
there   were  no   people   living  in   the  vicinity.     It 

-as,  therefore,  ^-ufficiently   solitary   to   [)ermit  of 
any  deed  of  violence  being  done  with  impunity. 

Diivifl  and  Clive  gave  themselves  up  for  lost. 
With  a  last  frantic  effort,  David  tore  his  head  loose, 
dashed  his  fist  into  the  face  of  b(>ggar  Number 
Six,  who  was  holding  him,  and  tricMl  to  ('scaj)e. 


I5K(.'GAU.S. 


31 


"  Scelcrate !  "  cried  Number  Six  ;  and  he  threw 
David  to  the  ground,  and  held  him  down,  wliile  ho 
caught  iiim  by  the  tiiroat.  J>ut  tiiougli  thus  over- 
powered, David  still  struggled,  and  it  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  the  big  brute  who  held  him 
was  able  to  keep  him  under. 

Suddenly,  at  this  moment,  when  all  hope  seemed 
lost,  a  loud  cry  was  heard.  There  was  a  rusli  of 
two  figures  upon  the  scene  ;  and  the  next  instant 
Number  Six  was  torn  away,  and  rolled  over  on  his 
back,  A  firm  grasp  was  fixed  on  his  throat,  and  a 
tremendous  blow  descended  on  his  head  from  a 
stout  stick,  which  was  wielded  by  the  youthful 
but  sinewy  arm  of  Frank  Wilmot.  At  the  same 
instant,  also,  Dob  Clark  had  bounckd  at  Number 
Five,  leaped  on  his  back,  and  began  '^eating  him 
about  the  head. 

The  attack  had  been  so  sudden,  and  so  utterly 
unexpected,  that  it  carried  all  before  it.  Away, 
with  a  wild  cry  of  terror,  fled  the  four  decrepit 
beggars,  leaving  Number  Five  and  Number  Six  on 
the  field  to  themselves  and  the  four  boys.  Number 
Six  groaned  with  pain,  and  struggled  furiously. 
He  wrenched  himsulf  from  beneath  his  assailants, 
but  they  again  got  the  ujiper  hand,  and  held  on 
firmly.  But  Number  Six  was  too  strong  to  be 
easily  grappled  with,  and  it  went  hard  with  his 
assailants. 

Meanwhile  Clive,  relieved  by  Bob,  had  become 
an  assailant  also.    Snatching  up  a  stone,  he  dashed 


32 


AMONG  TIIK  BFnr.Axns. 


it  full  in  the  llice  ofNunihcr  Five.  The  man  stag- 
gered back  and  fell,  and  Jlob  narrowly  escaped 
falling  under  him.  IJut  Number  Five  sprang  up 
instantly,  and  before  Bob  or  Clive  could  close 
with  him  again,  darted  off  without  attempting  to 
help  Number  J?ix,  and  ran  for  his  life.  Cowardly 
by  nature,  the  beggars  did  not  think  of  the  size 
of  their  assailants  ;  their  fears  magnified  the  boys 
to  men  :  and  they  only  thought  of  safety  in  a  panic 
flight.  But  Number  Six  was  there  yet,  with  F'rank 
Wihnot's  sinewy  arms  about  him,  and  Bob  and 
Clive  now  rushed  to  take  i)art  in  that  struggle. 
This  addition  to  the  attacking  force  turned  the 
scale  completely. 

The  struggle  that  now  followed  was  most  vio- 
lent, the  Italian  making  the  most  furious  efforts  to 
free  himself;  but  Frank  was  very  large  and  strong 
for  his  years ;  he  was  possessed  of  bull-dog  te- 
nacity and  high-strung  courage,  and  was  strenu- 
ously assisted  by  tlic  other  three  ;  so  that  the 
union  of  all  their  forces  formed  something  to  which 
one  man  was  scarcely  equal.  In  a  very  short  time, 
therefore,  after  the  arrival  of  Bob  and  Clive,  the 
would-be  robber  was  lying  on  his  face,  held  firmly 
down  by  tho  four  boys. 

"  Boys,"  said  Frank,  who  was  sitting  on  his 
shoulders,  "  fold  his  arms  over  his  back." 

As  they  did  this,  he  twisted  his  handkerchief 
tightly,  and  then  bound  it  around  the  man's  hands 
as  firmly  as  if  it  had  been  a  rope.     Bob  and  Clive 


BEGGARS. 


88 


held  liim  down  by  sitting  on  his  \o»;^,  while  David 
sat  on  his  neck.  Frank  now  asked  for  their  iiand- 
kerchiet's,  twisted  them,  tied  them  together,  and 
then  directed  Bob  to  fasten  the  man's  ieet.  This 
was  Bob's  task,  and  he  did  it  as  neatly  as  though 
he  had  been  brought  up  to  that  particular  busi- 
ness exclusively. 

The  man  was  now  bound  hard  and  fast,  and  lay 
on  his  face  without  a  word,  and  only  an  occasional 
struggle.  The  weight  of  the  boys  was  so  disposed 
that  it  was  not  possible  for  him  to  get  rid  of  them, 
and  Frank  watched  all  his  attempted  movements 
so  vigilantly,  that  every  effort  was  baffled  at  the 
outset.  Frank  also  watched  Bob  as  he  tied  the 
knots,  and  then,  seeing  that  the  work  was  well 
done,  he  started  up. 

"  Come,  boys,"  said  he,  "  let's  give  the  rascal  a 
chance  to  breathe." 

At  this  the  boys  all  got  up,  and  the  Italian,  re- 
lieved from  their  weight,  rolled  over  on  his  back, 
and  then  on  his  side,  staring  all  around,  and  mak- 
ing desperate  efforts  to  free  himself.  ITc  was  like 
the  immortal  Gulliver  when  bound  by  the  Lillipu- 
tians, exce])t  that  one  of  his  assailants,  at  least, 
was  no  Lilliputian,  for  in  brawn,  and  sinew,  and 
solid  muscle,  Frank,  boy  though  he  might  be,  was 
not  very  much,  if  at  all,  his  inferior.  As  he  strug- 
gled, and  stared,  and  rolled  about,  the  boys  looked 
on;  and  Frank  Avatched  him  carefully,  ready  to 
spring  at  him  at  the  first  sign  of  the  bonds  giving 
3 


84 


AMONG    TIIK    IJUKJANDS. 


way.  But  tlio  knots  had  been  too  carefully  tied, 
and  this  the  Italian  soon  found  out.  He  thoroforo 
ceased  his  useless  eiforis,  and  sat  uj) :  then,  draw- 
ing up  his  ieet,  he  leaned  his  chin  on  his  knees, 
and  stared  sulkily  at  the  ground. 

"  And  now,"  said  David,  "  what  are  we  to  do?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Frank. 

for  Uncle  Moses,"  said   Bob,  "  or  Mi- 


Let' 


ijiiiA  go  lor 
chael  Angelo." 

"  We'd  better  hunt  up  a  policeman, "  said  Clive. 

"  No,"  said  Frank,  ''  lefs  get  Uncle  Moses  here 
first.  You  go.  Bob  ;  and  be  quick,  or  else  those 
other  beggars'll  be  back  here  and  release  him." 

Upon  this  Bob  set  out,  and  the  others  guarded 
the  prisoner.  Bob  was  not  gone  long,  however, 
but  soon  returned  in  company  Avith  Uncle  Moses. 
Bob  had  found  him  at  the  inn,  and  in  a  breathless 
way  had  told  him  all,  but  he  had  scarcely  under- 
stood it ;  and  as  he  now  came  upon  the  scene,  he 
looked  around  in  wonder,  and  seemed  utterly  be- 
wildered. Had  he  found  his  beloved  boys  cap- 
tured by  bandits,  he  would  have  been  shocked, 
but  not  very  much  surprised  —  for  that  was  the 
one  terror  of  his  life  ;  but  to  find  the  tables 
turned,  and  a  l)andit  captured  by  his  boys,  was  a 
thing  which  was  so  completely  opposed  to  all  his 
ordinary  tlioughts,  that  he  stood  for  a  moment 
fairly  stupefied.  Nor  was  it  until  David  had  told 
the  whole  story,  and  thus  given  him  a  second  and 
Davidian  edition  of  it,  that  he  began  to  master  the 
situation. 


THE   CAPTIVE   IIOBUER. 


8$ 


"Dear!  dear!  clear !"  he  cried,  lookinp^  slowly 
at  (Mich  of  the  hoys  in  auccossion,  and  then  at 
their  silent  and  sulky  caj)tive,  "  and  ko  you  railly 
and  truly  wore  attacked  and  made  prisoners  by 
bandits.     DcNir  I  dear  I  dear  1  '* 

He  looked  inexpressibly  shocked,  and  for  some 
time  stood  in  silence  ancid  the  loud  clatter  of  the 
boys. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Frank,  at  last,  "  what 
are  wo  to  do  Avith  him?  " 

To  this  Uncle  Moses  made  no  reply.  It  waa 
certainly  a  somewhat  puzzling  inquiry ;  and  hig 
own  life  had  been  so  peaceful  and  uneventful,  that 
the  (jncstion  of  the  best  way  of  dealing  with  a  cap- 
tured  bandit  was,  very  naturall}',  a  somewhat  per- 
plexing one  to  answer.  Ho  stood,  therefore,  with 
his  head  bent  forward,  his  right  hand  supporting 
liis  left  elbow,  and  his  left  hand  supporting  his 
forehead,  while  his  mild  eyes  regarded  the  captivo 
robber  with  a  meek  and  almost  paternal  glance, 
and  his  mind  occupied  itself  in  weighing  that  cap- 
tive's destiny. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Moses,  said  Frank  a  second  time, 
somewhat  impatiently,  "  what  are  wo  to  do  with 
him?  Wo  must  do  something, —  and  be  quick 
about  it  too, — or  else  the  other  beggars'll  be  l)ack.'* 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  slowly  and  thought- 
fully, "  that's  the  very  identical  pint  that  I'm  a 
meditatin  on.  An  the  long  an  the  short  of  it  is, 
that   I'm   beginuin   to  think,  that  tho  very   best 


86 


amom;  thk  bhkjands. 


thing  you  c.in  do  is  to  trtke  your  liandkorchees 
back,  and  coiiio  hack  with  mo  to  tho  inn,  and  ^et 
some  dinner.  For  I've  every  reason  to  helievo 
tiiat  (hnncr's  ready  about  this  time,  bcin  as  I  re- 
member hearin  a  bell  a  ringin  jest  before  Bob 
came  i'or  me." 

At  this  the  boy.s  stared  in  amazement  at  Undo 
Moses,  not  knowing  what  in  the  world  to  make  of 
this. 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  said  Frank,  "  about  our 
handkerchiefs,  when  we've  tied  up  the  bandit  with 
tiiem  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  I  think  if  you  come 
you  may  as  well  bring  yer  handkerchees  with  you 

—  as  I  s'pose  you  ])refer  havin  em." 

"  But  we'd  have  to  untie  them,"  said  Bob. 

"  Wal,  yes,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  dryly ;  "  that  fol- 
lers  as  a  nat'ral  consequence." 

"  What ! "  ciied  Frank,  in  an  indignant  voice, 
"  untie  him  ?  Let  him  go  ?  And  after  he  has  nearly 
killed  David  and  Clive?" 

"  Wal,  he  didn't  quite  kill  em,"  said  Uncle  Mosca, 
turning  his  eyes  benignantly  upon  the  two  boys. 
"  They  seem  to  me  jest  now  to  be  oncommon  spry 

—  arter  it  all.  They  don't  look  very  nigh  death,  as 
far  as  ap[)earances  go.  No  harm's  done,  I  guess ; 
an  so,  I  dare  say,  we'd  best  jest  let  em  go." 

At  this  Frank  looked  inefllably  disgusted. 
"  You  see,  boys,"  said  Uncle   Moses,  "  here  we 
air,  in  a  very  peculiar  situation.     What  air  we  ? 


UXCLK    MOSKS     AIUM'MKNT. 


87 


Stranpjorfl  iirul  sojourners  in  a  stranf,'o  land  ;  don't 
know  a  word  of  tlio  outlandish  linpjo  ;  surrounded 
l)y  beggars  and  Philistines.  Air  there  any  law 
c(>urts  here?  Air  there  any  lawyers?  Air  there 
any  jndges?  1  pause  for  a  reply.  There  ain't 
one.  No.  An  if  we  keep  this  man  tied  up,  what 
can  we  do  with  him?  Wo  can't  take  him  hack  with 
us  in  the  coach.  Wo  can't  keep  him  and  feed  him 
at  the  hotel  like  a  pet  animule.  I  don't  know  whar 
the  lock-up  is,  an  Iiain't  seen  a  i)oliceman  in  the 
whole  place.  Besides,  if  we  do  hand  this  bandit 
over  to  the  />olice,  do  y(m  think  it's  goin  to  end 
there?  No,  sir.  Not  it.  If  this  man's  arrested, 
we'll  bo  arrested  too.  We'll  have  to  be  witnesses 
agin  him.  An  that's  what  I  don't  want  to  do,  if  I 
can  help  it.  My  idee  an  aim  alhis  is  to  keep  clear 
of  the  lawyers.  I'd  rather  be  imposed  on ;  I'd 
rather  pay  out  money  unjustly,  be  cheated,  hum- 
bugged, and  do  any  thin,  than  put  myself  in  the 
power  of  lawyers.  Depend  upt)n  it,  they're  as  bad 
hero  as  they  air  home.  They'd  have  us  all  in 
jail,  as  witnesses.  Now,  I  don't  want  to  go  to  jail." 
The  words  of  Uncle  Moses  produced  a  strong 
impression  upon  the  boys.  p]ven  Frank  saw  that 
handing  tlie  man  over  to  the  authorities  would  in- 
volve some  trouble,  at  least,  on  their  part.  He 
hated  wliat  he  called  "  bother."  Besides,  he  had 
no  vengeful  feelings  against  the  Italian,  nor  had 
Bob.  As  for  David  and  Ciive,  they  were  the  only 
ones  who  had  been  really  wronged  by  the  fellow; 
but  they  were  the  last  in  the  world  to  harbor  re- 


38 


AMONG   Tin-:    imiGANDS. 


sentment  or  think  of  revenge.  Their  victory  liad 
also  niado  them  nierciful.  So  the  end  ol"  it  was, 
that  they  did  aceording  to  Uncle  Moses'  eugges- 
tion,  and  untied  the  bonds. 

Number  Six  was  evidently  amazed.  He  rose  to 
his  i'eet,  looked  warily  at  the  party,  as  though  ex- 
pecting some  new  attack,  then  looked  all  around, 
and  then,  Avith  a  bound,  he  sprang  away,  and  run- 
ning towards  the  road,  soon  disajjpeared.  Tho 
rest  did  not  delay  much  longer,  but  returned 
as  soon  as  possible  to  the  inn,  where  they  found 
their  dinner  ready.  This  they  ate,  and  then  drove 
back  to  Naples. 

The  opportune  arrival  of  Frank  and  Bob  was 
soon  explained.  They  had  been  riding  on  donkeys, 
and  had  seen  the  crowd  around  David  and  Clive, 
and  the  struggle.  Fearing  some  danger  for  their 
companions,  they  had  hastened  to  the  spot,  and 
reached  it  in  time  to  bo  of  service.  The  adven- 
ture might  have  been  most  serious  to  David  and 
Clive ;  but  as  it  happened,  the  results  were  of  no 
very  grave  character.  Tliey  felt  a  little  son  ;  that 
is  all.  Bob  also  had  a  bad  bruise  on  his  left  arm  ; 
but  on  the  Avhole,  very  little  harm  had  been  done, 
nor  did  the  boys  regret  afterwards  that  they  had 
let  the  scou).drel  go  free. 

As  for  their  guide,  Michael  Angelo,  he  had  been 
busy  in  another  diiection,  during  this  adventure, 
and  when  he  heard  of  it,  he  was  very  anxious  to 
have  them  arrested  ;  but  Liicle  Moses,  for  reaaoutJ 
already  stated,  declined  to  do  anything. 


IN   THE   COUNTRY. 


CHAPTER  111. 

Out  into  the  Country.  —  The  Drive.  —  The  ^i^iori.pv.s  LxxJ. 

—  Sorrento  and  eternal  Sununer.  —  The  Ca'c  cf  P'ily- 
plienius.  —  The    Cathedral. —  Tlie   mystcripi4s   /rerjr^v. — 

Wluit  IS  it? — Da'i'id  Relic-hunting.  —  A    Cala::'-!'pke. 

—  Chased  by  a    Virago.  —  The  Toicn  roused.  —  Erni\^iJ. 

—  A  desperate  Onset.  —  Flight.  — Last  of  the  lYrj-;,^. 

^  FEW  days  after  the  afl'air  related  in  th«?'  h^ 
iV^^*^  chapter,  our  party  set  out  from  N";^]'].?-'  on 
4)"^^  an  excursion  round  the  environ?.  Wkh 
the  assistance  of  their  huidlord  they  were  aB»le  to 
get  a  carriage,  which  they  hired  for  the  excursion, 
the  driver  of  which  went  with  them,  and  wa*  to  pay 
all  their  expenses  for  a  certain  given  ^um.  They 
expected  to  be  gone  several  days,  and  to  vir-il  many 
places  of  surpassing  interest;  for  Na]iles  is  a  city 
whose  charms,  great  as  tlu>y  arc,  do  n(»t  swrpass 
the  manifold  lovc-iiness  with  which  it  i?  eEvirHj-netL 
and  the  whole  party  wouhl  have  been  t<>TTx  molted 
if  they  had  missed  any  one  of  those  tici^nes-  of  eo- 
chantnuMit  that  lay  so  invitingly  near  tlit-ia. 

As  tliey  drove  along  the  shore  they  werv  all  in 
the  highest  spirits.    The  sky  was  cloudless,  amd  of 


40 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


that  deep  blue  color  which  is  common  to  this 
climate ;  and  the  sun  shone  with  dazzling  bright- 
ness, being  only  warm  enough  to  be  pleasant,  and 
not  in  any  way  oppressive.  For  many  miles  the 
way  seemed  nothing  else  than  a  street.  Houses 
arose  on  each  side ;  crowds  of  people,  and  multi- 
tudes of  wagons,  and  droves  of  cattle  constantly 
met  their  eyes.  Caleches  dashed  about  in  all  direc- 
tions. The  street  itself  was  paved  with  the  large 
lava  blocks  which  prevail  throughout  the  city  ;  and 
in  fact  it  seemed  as  though  Naples  was  prolonging 
itself  indefinitely. 

At  length  they  emerged  from  the  close-built 
city,  and  entered  the  country.  All  the  way  the 
scenery  was  exquisite.  On  the  left  extended 
green  fields,  and  orchards,  snid  vineyards;  spread- 
ing away  for  miles,  they  rose  up  tlie  sides  of  high 
mountains.  Upon  these  were  small  villas  and 
hamlets,  while  occasionally  a  enstle  perched  u[)on 
some  inareessible  height  thrcMv  an  air  of  romantic 
attraction  ;il)out  the  scene.  Tlitiv  |)assed  several 
villages,  and  at  length  resiched  Castellamare,  a 
town  on  the  shore  of  the  bay.  Passing  beytmd 
this,  tliev  found  a  change  in  the  scenery.  Tlie 
road  wound  along  cliffs  which  overhung  the  sea, 
and  was  ornamented  by  tree^'.  The  read  itself 
was  a  magnificent  one,  as  smooth  as  a  fioor,  and 
by  it-  eiicuitous  course  afforded  a  perjx'tual  Vii- 
riety.  Tin;  far  white  houses  of  Naples,  the  towers 
that  dotted  the  shore  on   every  side,  the   islands 


THE  GLORIOUS   LAND. 


41 


that  rose  from  out  the  waters,  the  glorions  hay,  tiie 
gloomy  form  of  Vesuvius,  with  its  smoke  clouds 
overhanging,  all  united  to  form  a  scene  which 
called  forth  the  most  tmhounded  admiration. 
Besides  all  these  general  features  there  were 
others  of  a  more  special  character,  as  from  time  to 
time  they  came  to  some  recess  in  the  shore;  and 
the  road  running  in  brought  them  to  some  little 
hamlet,  which,  nestling  here,  seemed  the  abode  of 
peace,  and  innocence,  and  happiness.  Through 
such  variations  of  scenery  they  passed,  and  at 
length  arrived  at  Sorrento. 

This  little  town  is  most  beautifully  situated  near 
the  mouth  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  and  around  it 
arise  high,  encircling  hills  which  protect  it  from 
the  cold  blasts  of  winter  and  the  hot  winds  of 
summer.  Sorrento  has  a  perfect  climate.  All  the 
i^ot.'/'us  are  blended  together  here,  and  in  the 
i  .-r.f^e  groves,  that  surround  the  town,  there  may 
Lc  «  -n  at  the  same  time  the  strange  spectacle  of 
trc''s  'a  blossom  side  by  side  with  trees  that  are 
loaded  with  fruit  fully  ripe. 

It  was  evening  when  they  arrived,  and  they  had 
not  much  lime  to  spare;  so  they  at  once  procured 
a  guide  from  the  hotel,  and  set  forth  to  see  what 
they  could  before  dark.  First,  the  guide  took 
them  to  a  deep  chasm,  which  was  so  wild  and 
abrupt,  so  dee[)  and  gloomy,  that  it  looked  like  the 
work  of  a  recent  earth(iuake.  Not  far  from  this 
were    some   ancient   reservoirs,  the   work  of  the 


42 


AMONG  THE    BRI0AND3. 


times  of  imperial  Rome.  The  arches  were  yet 
perfect,  and  over  the  reservoir  was  a  garden  of 
orange  treet  Not  far  distant  was  a  ruined  temple, 
in  the  enclosi  t  ivhich  was  a  myrtle  plant,  five 

Iiimdred  years  «.m  and  so  large  that  it  formed  a 
respectable  tree. 

After  showing  them  these  things  and  several 
others,  the  guide  took  them  to  the  sea-shore,  to  a 
place  which  goes  by  the  name  of  the  Cavo  of  Poly- 
phemus. This  is  a  large  cavern  in  the  cliff,  in 
Iront  of  which  is  a  huge  fragment  of  rock.  Here 
the  boys  recalled  the  story  of  Ulysses ;  and  David 
volunteered  to  give  it  in  full  to  Uncle  Moses.  So 
David  told  how  Ulysses  ventured  to  this  place 
with  his  companions ;  how  the  one-eyed  Cyclops 
caught  them ;  how  he  imprisoned  them  in  the 
cabin,  shutting  up  its  mouth  by  means  of  a  huge 
rock,  which  David  thought  might  have  been  that 
very  fragment  that  now  lay  on  the  shore  before 
their  eyes ;  how  tlio  monster  began  to  devour 
them  ;  how  Ulyss-os  devised  a  plan  of  escape,  and 
succeeded  in  putting  out  the  eye  of  the  monster; 
how  he  then  effected  his  escape  from  the  cave,  and 
regaining  his  vessel,  put  forth  to  sea. 

Then  thoy  went  to  visit  the  house  in  which 
Tasso  was  born.  They  were  not  able  to  enter  it, 
and  as  it  was  now  dark,  they  retreated  to  their 
hotel. 

On  the  following  morning  they  all  .^et  out  with- 
out the  guide,  to  see  the  town  lor  themselves.     A 


THE   CATHEDRAL. 


48 


festival  of  some  kind  was  goin^  on,  which  attracted 
many  people,  and  the  cathedral  was  filled.  Tho 
boyr^,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  wandered  away 
towards  the  common  centre  of  attraction.  They 
soon  lost  one  another  in  the  crowd,  and  one  by  one 
they  worked  their  way  into  the  interior  of  tho 
place.  Tlie  organ  was  sounding  forth,  tho  priests 
were  intoning  service,  on  tlie  altar  candles  were 
burning,  and  fir  on  high,  through  the  lofty  vaulted 
nave,  there  rolled  ''  the  smoke  of  incense  and  the 
wail  of  song  ! " 

David  found  himself  a  little  distance  away  from 
a  side  chapel,  which  was  evidently  the  chief  at- 
traction to  the  worslii})pers  within  the  sacred 
edifice.  A  dense  crowd  assembled  about  it,  and 
in  front  of  it.  I'hrough  these  David  managed  to 
make  his  w^ay,  full  of  curiosity  aliout  the  cause  of 
their  interest.  He  at  length  f'rced  himself  far 
enough  forward  to  see  inside  the  chapel.  lie  saw 
a  structure,  in  the  centre  of  the  chapel,  covered 
with  draj)ery,  upon  which  was  a  cushion.  Ijyiug 
on  this  cushion  was  the  imago  of  a  child,  clothed 
in  rich  attire,  and  spangled  with  jewels,  and 
adorned  with  gold  and  silver.  Whether  it  was 
made  of  wood  or  wax  he  could  not  tell,  but  thought 
it  was  th(^  former.  The  sight  of  it  only  tempted 
his  curiosity  the  more,  and  he  longed  to  look  at  it 
more  closely.  It  was  evidently  considered  by  tho 
surrounding  crowd  to  be  an  object  of  great 
sanctity,   for   they  regarded   it   with    tho   utmost 


44 


AMONCJ   THE    BRICANnS. 


reverence,  and  those  nearest  were  on  their  kneea. 
Upon  the  altar,  at  the  end  of  this  chapel,  lights 
were  burning,  and  a  priest  was  engaged  in  re- 
ligious ceremonies. 

David's  desire  to  go  closer  was  so  strong,  that  ho 
waited  patiently  in  this  one  spot  for  tlic  opportuni- 
ty of  gratifying  his  curiosity.  He  had  to  wait  lor 
a  long  time  ;  but  at  length  lie  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  a  movement  among  the  people,  whicli 
showed  that  they  were  on  the  point  of  dispersing. 
After  this  the  crowd  lessened,  and  the  people 
began  to  take  their  departure.  At  length  but  a 
few  remained,  some  of  whom  were  still  on  their 
knees  around  the  image. 

David  now,  in  a  slow  and  unassuming  manner, 
advanced  towards  the  image.  He  could  go  close 
to  it,  and  was  able  to  see  it  perfectly.  An  iron 
rail  surrounded  the  structure  on  which  it  was 
laid,  preventing  too  close  an  approach  ;  but  stand- 
ing here,  outside  of  tlie  rail,  David  saw  that  the 
image  was  very  rudely  carved  out  of  wood,  and 
was  intended  to  represent  a  child.  Why  such  an 
image  should  be  the  object  of  such  interest  and 
devotion  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  imagine. 
He  could  only  postpone  any  investigation  into  this 
until  he  could  find  out  from  some  one. 

And  now  there  came  over  him  an  overwhelming 
desire  to  obtain  a  fragment  from  some  portion  of 
this  image,  or  its  dress,  or  its  surroundings,  to 
Bcrve  as  a  relic.     His    relic-hunting  propensities 


DAVID    REI.IC-IIUNTIXO. 


45 


had  never  be(>n  stronfrer  than  they  wore  at  this 
moment,  and  no  sooner  did  the  idea  suggest  itself 
than  ho  looked  all  around  to  see  what  were  the 
chances. 

As  he  looked  around  ho  saw  timt  the  cathedral 
was  nearly  empty  :  a  priest  was  near  the  high  altar, 
two  boys  were  in  the  middle  of  the  nave,  by  the 
chief  entrance  was  a  little  group  just  preparing  to 
leave.  Nearer  him,  and  close  by  the  image,  were 
two  women.  They  were  on  their  knees,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  absorbed  in  their  devotions.  It 
seemed  to  David  that  it  would  be  quite  easy  to 
possess  himself  of  some  small  and  unimportant  por- 
tion of  the  drapery.  He  was  quite  unobserved,  for 
the  two  women  who  were  nearest  were  not  regard- 
ing him,  the  drapery  was  within  easy  reach,  and  a 
row  of  tassels,  upon  which  he  could  lay  his  hand, 
oflered  an  irresistible  temptation.  If  he  could  but 
get  one  of  those  tassels,  what  an  addition  it  would 
be  to  his  little  stock  of  treasures ! 

David  once  more  looked  all  around.  The  priests 
were  still  at  the  altar  ;  but  the  boys  had  gone  from 
the  nave,  and  those  who  had  been  near  the  door 
had  de[)arted.  The  women  seemed  as  intent  as 
ever  upon  their  devotions.  David  looked  at  the 
drapery  once  more,  and  upon  one  of  the  tassels 
which  was  nearest  him. 

Once  more  he  looked  all  around,  and  then, 
stretching  forward  his  hand,  he  touched  the 
coveted  tassel. 


46 


AMONG   THE   BRIOANDS. 


Then  he  drew  hack  his  liand,  and  putting;  it  in 
his  pocket,  he  drew  lorth  his  knile,  which  he 
opened. 

Then  he  looked  around  once  more. 

Then,  for  the  last  time,  he  put  his  hand  forward, 
holding  the  knife  so  as  to  cut  the  tassel.  But  the 
cord  which  liound  the  tassel  to  the  drapery  was 
strong,  and  the  knife  was  very  dull,  and  David 
found  that  it  was  not  so  easy  as  he  had  su[)posed. 
But  he  was  determined  to  get  it,  and  so  he  sawed 
away,  Avith  his  dull  old  knife,  at  the  cord,  severing 
one  by  one  the  filaments  that  composed  it,  but 
doing  this  so  slowly  that  he  began  to  grow  im- 
patient. The  women  were  not  looking.  There 
was  no  danger.  To  work  with  one  hand  was  use- 
less, and  so  he  reached  forth  both  hands,  and 
began  sawing  away  more  vigorously  than  ever. 
But  his  impatience,  and  his  vehement  pulls  and 
tugs,  produced  an  effect  which  ho  had  not  expected. 
The  heavy  drapery,  which  had  been  loosely  thrown 
over,  began  to  slide  off  towards  him  as  he  pulled. 
David  did  not  notice  this,  but  continued  his  work, 
looking  around  to  see  whether  the  women  were 
noticing  him  or  not.  At  length  he  had  sawed  the 
cord  almost  through,  and  gave  a  quick  pull  at  it  to 
break  it. 

The  next  moment  the  heavy  drapery  came 
sliding  down  towards  him,  and,  to  his  horror,  the 
wooden  image  came  with  it,  falling  with  a  crash 
on  the  marble  pavement. 


CHASKD    HV    A    V1HA(;(). 


47 


In  an  instant  the  two  women  started  to  their 
feet,  starin<^  with  wild  eyes  at  the  image  and  the 
drapery.  Then  their  wild  eyes  caught  Hight  of 
David,  whose  frightened  face  would  iiave  revealed 
him  as  the  guilty  cause  of  this  catastrophe,  even 
if  it  had  not  been  shown  by  the  tassel  and  the 
knife,  which  were  in  his  hands. 

With  a  sharp,  shrill  scream,  one  of  the  women 
sprang  towards  him.  David  instinctively  leaped 
back,  and  eluded  her.  The  woman  chased.  David 
dodged  her  around  a  })illar. 

The  woman  loUowed. 

David  dodged  behind  another  pillar. 

The  woman  cried  out,  "  0  Scellerato  I  Birbone  ! 
Farho!  Ladrone  ! ''  And  though  David's  knowl- 
edge of  the  Italian  language  was  but  slight,  yet  it 
sufficed  to  show  him  that  these  names  which  she 
yelled  after  him  had  a  very  direlul  signification. 

Thus  David  fled,  dodging  the  woman  behind 
pillar  after  pillar,  until  at  length  he  came  near  to 
the  door.  Had  the  other  woman  taken  part  in  the 
chase,  David  would  certainly  have  been  captured. 
But  the  other  woman  did  not.  She  stood  as  if 
petrified  —  motionless  and  mute,  staring  at  the 
fallen  sanctuary,  and  overwhelmed  with  horror. 
So  the  flight  went  on,  until  at  length,  reaching  the 
door,  David  made  a  rush  for  it,  dashed  through, 
and  ran  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him.  The 
woman  followed,  but  at  a  Uower  rate  of  speed,  and 
saw  him  go  into  the  hotel.     Then  she  returned  to 


48 


AMON'J    THE   BRIGANDS. 


the  cliurch,  after  wliich  she  went  abroad  with  the 
story  of  the  horrible  desecration  through  all 
Sorrento. 

On  reaching  the  hotel,  David  found  the  rest  of 
the  party  there,  at  dinner.  He  said  nothing  of  his 
recent  adventure,  but  took  his  seat  at  the  table. 

Before  long,  the  party  became  conscious  of  a 
great  tumult  and  uproar  in  the  street  in  iront  of 
the  house.  Frank  and  Bob  went  to  the  winduws, 
and  looked  out.  A  sudden  exclamation  of  surprise 
brought  Clive  and  Uncle  Moses  to  their  side. 
David  followed  slowly,  with  a  strange  feeling  of 
apprehension,  and  with  the  recollection  of  his  late 
flight  still  strong  in  his  mind. 

He  looked  out. 

A  great  crowd  presented  itself  to  his  horrified 
eyes  —  a  crowd  representing  all  Sorrento ;  the 
old,  the  middle-aged,  the  young ;  the  rich,  the 
poor;  male  and  female;  old  men,  old  women,  boys, 
and  children.  At  the  head  of  this,  and  immediate- 
ly in  front  of  the  door,  was  the  very  old  woman 
who  had  discovered  his  sacrilege,  and  had  chased 
him  through  the  cathedral.  Now  he  had  hoped 
that  the  old  woman  had  forgotten  him  ;  but  her 
appearance  now  was  teni'old  more  terrible  than 
ever.  Here  she  was  —  a  virago  —  with  a  great 
Ibllowing,  whom  she  was  exciting  by  violent 
harangues,  and  urging  by  wild  gesticulations,  to  do 
something  or  other  which  David  could  not  under- 
stand,  but  which   he    could    well    imagine  to  bo 


THE   TOWN    UOl'HED. 


49 


Homething  that  had  reference  to  liis  own  humble, 
unworthy,  and  very  much  terrified  self. 

Before  they  had  fairly  grasped  the  whole  of  the 
scene  that  was  thus  so  suddenly  presented,  they 
were  accosted  by  the  landlord  and  the  driver,  who 
entered  the  room  hurriedly,  and  in  some  excite- 
ment, in  search  of  them. 

"  One  grand  meesfortune  haf  arrive,"  said  the 
landlord.  "  De  people  declare  you  haf  insult  de 
]JanibiiK).     Dey  cry  for  vengeance.     Howisdis?" 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Frank  ;  "  insult  what  ?  " 

"  De  Bambino." 

"  Bambino?" 

"Yes.  It  is  de  consecrate  image  —  de  Bam- 
bino—  does  miracles,  makes  cures;  wonderful 
image,  de  pride  of  Sorrento ;  an  dis  is  do  day 
sacred  to  him.  What  is  dis  meesfortune  dat  I  hear 
of?  It  is  one  grand  calamity  —  for  you  —  eef  you 
do  not  take  care." 

"  Bambino  ?  insult  ?  "  said  Frank.  "  We  haven't 
insulted  anything  whatever.     They're  crazy." 

Here  David,  linding  concealment  useless,  cou- 
fessed  all.  The  boys  listened  in  astonishment. 
The  landlord  shook  his  head  with  an  expression  of 
concern  and  perplexity. 

Then  he  had  a  long  conversation  witii  the 
driver. 

Then  they  both  left  the  room.  The  landlord 
went  outside,  and  tried  to  appease  the  crowd.  He 
might  possibly  have  succeeded,  had  it  not  been  for 
4 


50 


AMONG    TIIR   nRTOANDS. 


David's  old  womiiii,  avIio  shook  her  fists  in  liis  flice, 
Rhunped,  iii)iH>aU!d  to  Heaven,  raved,  and  howled, 
all  the  time  he  was  spoakinp;.  Tlu'  cori.scquenco 
was,  that  the  landlord's  words  had  no  ellect. 

He  then  entered  the  hotel  once  more,  and  after 
seeinp^  the  driver,  and  speaUin}^  a  few  words,  ho 
hurried  up  to  our  party,  who  by  this  time  were  iu 
a  state  of  general  alarm, 

"  You  must  run  —  fly  —  leaf  Sorrento  —  now  — 
widout  delay,"  he  cried,  hreathlessly.  "  I  haf 
order  de  carriage.  I  sail  tell  de  people  dat  you 
sail  be  arrest,  an  pacify  dem  for  a  few  moments, 
till  you  get  start." 

The  landlord  once  more  left  them,  and  going  out 
to  the  crowd,  he  made  a  few  remarks,  to  the  ellect 
that  the  hotel  was  being  searched  now  for  the 
offender  against  the  Bambino,  and  when  he  was 
found  he  would  at  once  be  handed  over  to  the 
authorities.  He  urged  them  to  wait  patiently,  and 
they  should  see  that  justice  would  be  done. 

The  crowd  now  grew  calmer,  and  waited.  The 
landlord  then  went  back,  and  led  the  party  down 
to  the  court-yard.  Here  the  carriage  was  all  in 
readiness,  and  the  driver  was  waiting.  They  all 
got  in  at  once,  unseen  by  the  crowd  in  the  street; 
and  then,  cracking  his  whip,  the  driver  urged  the 
horses  off  at  full  speed  through  the  gates.  The 
crowd  fell  back  on  either  side,  so  as  to  make  away, 
and  were  not  in  a  position  to  offer  any  obstacles  to 
BO  sudden  an  onset.     They  also  had  the  idea  that 


PLIGHT. 


61 


the  culprit  was  inside  the  hotel,  in  tlio  hands  of 
the  authorities. 

JJut  the  old  woman  was  not  to  bo  deceived ;  she 
Haw  it  all  in  a  moment,  and  in  .a  moment  she  raised 
the  alarm.  Raving,  howling,  gesticulating  wildly, 
dancing,  and  jumping,  she  sprang  alter  tlio  car- 
riage. The  crowd  followed.  Cut  the  carriage 
had  already  got  a  good  start;  it  liad  hurst  through 
the  people,  and  those  who  stood  in  the  way  wen- 
only  too  glad  to  get  out  of  it,  and  thus,  with  tlio 
horses  at  lull  speed,  they  dashed  up  the  street ;  and 
before  long  they  had  left  Isorrento,  and  the  hotel, 
and  the  insulted  Jiambino,  and  the  excited  crowd, 
and  the  raving  old  beldam  lar  behind. 

David's  adventure  in  Sorrento  had  been  a  peciK 
liar  one,  and  one,  too,  which  was  not  without 
danger;  but  if  there  was  any  satisfaction  to  bo  got 
out  of  it,  it  was  in  the  fact  that  the  tassel  which  ha 
had  acquired,  remained  still  in  his  possession,  to  be 
added  to  his  little  stock  of  relicat 


52 


AMOXc:  tiif:  biuoands. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


X.V 


Salerno  and  the  sulky  Driver.  —  Pcrstuvi  and  its  Temples. 
—  A  great  Sensation.  —  An  unpleasant  Predicatnent.  — 
Is  the  Dri7>er  a  Traitor  ?  —  Is  he  in  League  with  Ban- 
dits ? —  Arguments  about  the  Situation,  and  what  each 
thought  about  it. 

^  FTER  a  very  jiloasant  drive  through  a 
country  as  beautiful  as  it  had  been  ever 
since  they  left  Naples,  the  party  reached 
Mlerno,  where  they  passed  the  night.  Salerno  is 
u  lovely  place,  situated  at  the  extreniity  of  a  bay, 
like  Naples,  of  which  it  may  be  called  a  miniature. 
It  is  protected  from  the  wind  by  the  high  hills 
Hiat  encircle  it,  and  its  delicn'ous  climate  n)akes  it 
a  great  resort  for  invalids.  But  ibrmerly  Salerno 
had  a  dilTcrent  character,  and  one  i'ar  more  promi- 
nent in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Salerno  has  a  his- 
tory full  of  events  of  the  most  varied  and  stirring 
character.  Fought  for  by  Greek,  and  Koman,  and 
German,  and  Saracen,  and  Norman,  its  streets  liave 
witnessed  the  march  of  hundreds  of  warlike  ar- 
rays, and  it  has  known  every  extreme  of  good  or 
evil  fortune.  Two  things  make  Saleino  lull  of  in- 
terest to  the  traveller  who  loves  the  j>ast.     One  is, 


SALERNO    AND   THE   SULKY   DRIVES, 


53 


its  position  as  a  seat  of  li-iiniine;  <1uring  the  mid- 
(llo  ages.  Hero  once  arose  the  greatest  '=K*h<M>I  of 
medicine  in  the  world,  the  chairs  oi'  whirh  w»?re 
thiown  open  to  Jewisli  and  Arabian  }»r<'ift->.*."»rs, 
who  at  tiiat  time  far  outstripped  tlie  sttid'emi  of 
tiie  Christian  Avorld  in  scientific  attainment*.  The 
other  thing  is,  that  hero  the  great  ]Ki]»e,  Gr-^;rv>ry 
VII.,  found  rcd'nge,  after  his  long  strng^-le.  ■U'A, 
tlying  from  Rome,  obtained  rest  here  aruinir  the 
friendly  Normans,  for  it  was  in  Salerno  tliiat  he 
uttered  those  memorable  dying  words  «>f  hh: 
"  I  have  loved  righteousness,  and  hated  ini'|BiLly, 
and  therefore  I  die  in  exile." 

Here  at  Salerno  they  had  a  slight  mirim^ier- 
standing  with  their  driver,  lie  insisif  J  «:'iii  aret- 
ting  more  pay.  As  they  had  already  niMde  a  tnll 
contract  with  him,  this  demand  seemed  like  an  im- 
position, and  was  rejected  by  the  whole  <«f  fhena. 
Tlie  driver  grew  furiously  excited,  gestaciibtci 
vehemently,  stamped  his  feet,  rolled  hi*  eye!>, 
struck  his  fists  together,  and  uttered  langnage 
which  sotnided  like  Italian  oaths,  though  they 
could  not  make  it  out.  Uncle  Mose?!  }^e< -sieoi  a 
little  appalleil  at  his  vehemence,  and  wa?  inclined 
to  yield  to  his  demands  for  the  sake  of  pe.iO'C  :  8>nt 
the  boys  would  not  listen  to  this  for  a  moment. 
.Vfter  watching  the  raging  Italian  till  ihey  were 
tired,  Frank  at  length  started  to  his  feet,  and  in  a 
peremptory  tone  ordered  him  out  (if  the  r'xun. 
The   Italian  was   so   unprepared   for  thi*  deci*ive 


54 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


conduct  on  the  part  of  one  wlio  appeared  to  bo 
but  a  boy,  tliat  lie  stopped  short  in  tiio  midst  of  a 
most  eloquent  tirade  against  them,  in  wliich  ho 
was  threatening  to  denounce  them  to  the  author- 
ities for  sacrilege ;  and  having  stopped,  he  stared 
at  Frank,  and  seemed  unable  to  go  on  once  more. 
Frank  now  repeated  his  orders,  accompanying 
them  with  a  threat  that  he  would  call  in  the  police. 
At  this  the  driver's  brow  lowered  into  a  sullen 
scowl,  and  muttering  some  expressions  of  rago 
and  vengeance,  he  left  the  room. 

The  boys  chatted  a  little  about  the  mutiny  of 
the  driver,  as  they  called  it,  but  soon  dismissed 
the  thought  from  their  minds. 

After  passing  the  night  at  f^alcrno,  they  pre- 
pared, on  tlio  following  morning,  to  continue  their 
journey.  Early  in  the  day,  the  driver  made  his 
ap])earance.  He  was  quiet,  and  not  communica- 
tive, and  mucii  changed  from  his  former  self 
Frank  addressed  a  few  remarks  to  him,  but  perceiv- 
ing that  ho  was  sulky,  he  gave  up  all  attempts  to 
appease  his  wrath.  In  fact,  he  began  to  think  that 
it  might,  perhaps,  have  been  as  well  to  comply 
with  his  request,  lor  the  request  for  more  money 
had  been  based  upon  his  recent  rescue  of  them 
from  the  hands  of  the  mob  at  Sorrento.  Had  the 
driver  made  his  request  a  little  more  meekly,  and 
not  presented  it  with  such  an  assertion  of  right, 
tliero  is  no  doubt  that  they  would  have  cheerfully 
given  what  he  asked.     But  his  tone  excited  thoir 


P^STUM. 


55 


resentment  ;  and  afterwards,  when  the  driver 
chose  to  lose  liis  temper  and  scold  them,  they  were 
more  determined  than  over  to  refuse.  Had  he 
appeared  at  this  time  with  his  former  good-natured 
cxj»ression,  and  liad  lie  sliown  any  signs  of  com- 
punction for  liis  insolent  behavior,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  they  would  have  brought  up  the  sub- 
ject of  their  own  accord,  and  promised  liim  as 
handsome  a  sum  as  his  exploit  deserved.  But  his 
continued  sulks  prevented  them  from  introducing 
the  subject,  and  so  they  concluded  to  defer  it  to 
some  other  time,  when  he  might  be  restored  to 
himself. 

They  now  drove  along  tiie  road  e/t  rouU'  for  Ptes- 
tum.  At  first  they  drove  along  the  sea-  ;>  ire,  but 
after  a  few  miles  the  road  turned  off  into  the 
country.  All  around  them  were  fields,  which  were 
covered  with  flocks  and  herds,  whiio  in  the  dis- 
tnnce  were  hills  that  werif  clothed  with  vineyards 
and  olive  groves,  that  adorned  their  sloping  de- 
clivities with  mantles  of  dark  green  and  light.  In 
the  country,  on  either  side,  they  also  saw  some  in- 
dications of  Italian  life,  which  excited  strong  feel- 
ings of  repugnani'e  within  them;  for  hero  and 
there,  in  many  places,  women  were  toiling  in  the 
fields  just  as  the  men,  with  heavy  hoes,  or  with 
ploughs,  or  with  harrows.  In  some  places  it  was 
even  worse,  for  they  siiw  women  laboring  in  the 
fields,  while  the  men  lolled  on  the  fences,  or  sat 
smoking  under  the  shade  of  some  tree.     The  im- 


56 


AM0N(3    THE    I5RK!ANDS. 


plements  of  labor  U8ed  excited  their  surprise.  The 
hoes  were  as  ponderous,  as  clumsy,  and  as  heavy 
as  pickaxes;  the  ploughs  were  miserably  awkward 
things — a  straight  pole  with  a  straight  wood- 
en share,  which  was  sometimes,  though  by  no 
means  always,  pointed  with  iron.  These  ploughs 
were  worked  in  various  ways,  being  sometimes 
pulled  by  donkeys,  sometimes  by  oxen,  and  on  one 
memorable  occasion  a  donkey  and  a  woman  pulled 
the  plough,  while  a  man,  who  may  have  been  the 
woman's  husband,  guided  it  through  the  furrow. 

The  road  was  a  good  one,  and  was  at  first  well 
travelled.  They  met  soldiers,  and  priests,  and  peas- 
ants. They  met  droves  of  oxen,  and  wine  carts, 
and  large  herds  of  those  peculiar  hairless  pigs 
which  are  common  to  this  country.  As  they  drove 
on  farther,  the  travel  diminished,  and  at  length 
the  country  seemed  more  lonely.  It  was  still  fer- 
tile, and  covered  witli  luxuriant  vegetation  on 
every  side  ;  but  the  signs  of  Imman  habitation  de- 
creased, until  at  Itiigth  they  ceased.  The  reason 
of  this  lies  in  the  unhealthy  character  of  the  coun- 
try, Avhich,  like  many  places  in  Italy,  is  subject  to 
malaria,  and  is  shunned  by  the  people.  This  is  the 
nature  of  the  country  which  lies  around  ancient 
P.estum ;  and  though  the  fields  are  cidtivatetl, 
yet  the  cultivators  live  at  a  distance  upon  the 
slopes  of  the  mountains. 

At  about  midday  they  arrived  iii  Paistum. 
Here   they  descended   from  the  carriage,  and  giv. 


M 

*-  '■fl 

•' 

i 

1 

( 

t 

il 

1 

1 

1 

■ 

f 

r^ESTUM    AND    ITR   RUINS. 


57 


ing  instructions  to  tho  driver  to  remain  at  thia 
place  until  they  should  return,  they  started  off  to 
explore  the  ruined  city.  It  had  been  their  inten- 
tion to  make  use  of  tho  driver  as  guide,  to  show 
them  the  objects  of  interest  in  the  town ;  b\it  his 
long-continued  sulks  drove  this  from  their  minds, 
and  tlu^y  concluded  to  trust  to  themselves  and 
their  guide-bocjks.  The  carriage  was  drawn  up 
on  the  side  of  the  road,  not  far  from  where  there 
stood  an  archway,  still  entire,  which  once  formed 
one  of  the  gates  of  Piostum. 

Towards  tliis  tiiey  directed  their  steps.  The 
gateway  was  formed  of  large  blocks  of  stone  laid 
upon  each  other  without  cement,  and  by  their 
great  size  they  had  resisted  the  ravages  of  time. 
On  either  side  of  this  could  be  seen  the  founda- 
tion stones  of  tho  city  Avails,  which  have  fallen  or 
have  been  removed  in  the  course  of  ages.  But 
the  circuit  of  tho  walls  can  be  traced  by  tiie  frag- 
ments that  yet  remain,  and  from  this  circuit  the 
size  of  the  city  may  bo  judged.  Beyond  tho  gates 
aiid  in  the  enclosure  of  the  walls  are  some  niajes- 
tic  and  world-famed  ruins,  some  of  which  are  little 
else  than  masses  of  rubl)ish,  while  others  arc  so 
well  prescrvcfl.  that  they  might  now  be  used  for 
the  purpose  to  whicii  they  were  originally  devoted. 
There  i\r(;  the  remains  of  a  theatre  and  of  an  am- 
phitheatre, which,  however,  are  confused  heaps, 
and  some  )nd)lic  (Mbficcs  in  the  same  condition. 
The  foundations  of  sonw  private  lK)uses  may  also 


5S 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


be  seen.  But  tlie  most  noted  and  most  inter- 
esting of  tlie  remains  of  Paistum  are  its  two  Tem- 
ples and  Basilic;i —  edifices  whoso  origin  reaches 
back  to  tlic  depths  of  an  immemorial  antiquity,  but 
which  still  remain  in  a  state  of  preservation  so 
perfect  as  to  be  almost  incredible.  For  these 
edifices  are  as  old,  at  least,  as  Homer,  and  were 
probably  in  existence  before  his  day.  I'hoinician 
gailors  or  merchants  may  have  set  eyes  on  these 
temples,  who  also  saw  the  Temple  of  Solomon  at 
its  completion.  They  existed  in  the  age  of  the 
Pharaohs,  and  rival  in  antiquity,  in  massive  gran- 
deur, and  in  ]ierfect  preservation,  the  Pyramids  of 
Egypt.  In  the  age  of  imperial  Rome,  and  even 
of  republican  Rome,  these  temples  were  ancient, 
and  the  Emperor  Augustus  visited  them,  and  re- 
garded them  as  remains  of  venerable  antiquity. 

Of  these  three  edifices,  the  most  majestic,  and 
probably  the  most  ancient,  is  the  one  which  is 
calh^d  the  Temjjlo  of  Ne])tune.  The  stone  of 
which  it  is  built,  is  found  in  the  neighborhood  still, 
and  presents  a  most  singular  apy)earance.  At  a  dis- 
tance it  appears  very  rough  and  full  of  holes,  like 
cork.  A  closer  examination  shows  that  it  is  really 
composed  of  innumerable  fragments  of  wood,  com- 
pressed together  in  a  vast,  solid  mass,  and  petri- 
fied. The  stone  is  exceedingly  hard  and  durable. 
The  blocks  of  this  stone  out  of  which  this  temple, 
and  the  others  also,  are  l»uilt,  are  of  such  enormous 
size,  that  they  can  only  be  ct)n)pared  to  those  im- 


TEMPLES    OF   P.ESTUM. 


59 


mcnso  masses  that  were  heaped  up  to  form  the 
Pyramids  of  E,<z'y{)t  and  the  Temples  of  Karnak. 
Piled  up  here  upon  one  anotiier  without  cement, 
they  have  detie<l  the  rava<2;es  of  time. 

Tlie  Temple  of  Xt^ptuno  is  a|)proached  by  three 
immense  steps,  which  extend  around  every  side 
of  it.  It  is  al)out  two  hundred  feet  in  lon<2^th,  and 
eighty  in  ])readth,  while  uu  every  side  there  is  a 
row  of  enormous  columns  of  the  Doric  order, 
thirty-six  in  number.  They  arc  all  fluted,  and 
have  an  aspect  of  severe  and  massive  grandeur 
that  is  unequalled  in  any  other  temple.  Above 
these  columns  rise  an  enormous  Doric  frieze  and 
cornice,  the  height  of  which  is  ecjual  to  half  the 
height  of  the  columns;  and  these  proportions  give 
such  vastness  to  the  mass  above,  that  it  heightens 
the  sul)lime  effect.  The  colunuis,  which  extend 
round  the  Temple,  are  thirty  feet  higli,  and  seven 
feet  in  diameter  at  the  base.  Inside,  the  pavement 
is  well  preserved  ;  and,  though  the  altar  is  gone,  yet 
the  place  where  it  stood  can  easily  be  seen.  There 
is  no  roof  above,  and  ])robably  never  was  any;  for 
many  of  the  vast  edilices  of  anti(]uity  wert^  open 
to  the  sky — a  circumstance  whicli  made  the  task 
of  the  architect  much  easier,  since  it  relieved  him 
of  the  necessity  of  sustaining  a  \ast  weight  in  the 
air,  and  also  of  the  e(]ual  difliculty  of  lighting  the 
interiors  of  his  liuildings.  Fiom  within  the  tem- 
ple enclosures,  as  from  within  the  theatres  and  am- 
phitheatres, the  blue  sky  couhl  be  seen  overhead, 


60 


AMONG   THE   BRUJANDS. 


while  the  too  fervid  rays  of  a  midsiimmor  sun,  or 
the  storms  of  winter,  could  be  warded  off  from 
those  within  1)V  means  of  an  awning  thrown  over 
the  open  roof,  and  stretcliod  on  cables. 

Near  the  Teiiijile  of  Neptune  is  another,  which 
is  called  the  Temple  of  Ceres.  It  is  neither  so 
large  nor  so  grand  as  the  former,  but  it  possesses 
more  elegance  and  beauty.  It  is  about  a  hundred 
feet  long  and  fifty  feet  wide.  Like  its  companion, 
it  is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  colonnade,  six 
pillars  being  in  the  iVont,  six  in  the  rear,  and 
twelve  on  eitlier  side.  The  altar  here  is  gone,  but 
its  foundations  remain.  Various  signs  show  a 
greater  degree  of  splendor  in  the  interior  adorn- 
ment of  this  tempU^,  especially  the  fact  that 
the  pavement  was  mosaic  work.  There  is  reason 
to  suppose  that  this  temple  was  turned  into  a 
Christian  rliureh  some  time  in  tlie  fourth  century. 
Such  a  transiormiition  as  this  was  common  enough 
throughout  the  Roman  empire  during  that  great 
triumph  of  Christianity  which  look  place  under 
Constant ine,  and  after  him,  so  that  in  this  case 
there  need  be  little  room  foi-  doubt  as  to  the  truth 
of  the  statement. 

Not  far  from  this  is  the  third  of  the  great  ed- 
ifices of  P;estum.  It  is  about  as  larg(>  as  the  Tem- 
ple of  Neptune,  being  nearly  two  hundred  feet 
long, and  about  eighty  feet  wide.  Like  the  others, 
it  is  surrounded  by  a  colonnade,  but  the  architec- 
ture is  less  massive  than  that  of  the  first  temple. 


AN    UNPLFASANT    PRHHirAMKNT. 


61 


Of  these  colurniis,  nine  art;  in  front,  nine  in  the 
rear,  and  sixteen  are  on  either  si(h\  iiiakin*^  fiity 
in  all.  In  this  edifiee  there  are  no  signs  whatever 
of  an  altar  :  and  this  circumstanee  has  led  to  the 
belief  that  it  was  not  a  teini)le  at  all,  hut  a  court 
of  law.  Accordingly,  it  is  called  the  Basilica, 
which  term  was  used  by  the  Romans  to  indicate  a 
place  used  for  public  trials.  Inside,  the  pavement 
yet  remains,  and  there  are  the  remains  of  a  row 
of  colunms  which  onc(;  passed  along  the  middle 
of  the  building  from  front  to  rear,  dividing  it  into 
two  parts. 

Of  all  the  three,  the  Temple  of  Neptune  is  the 
grandest,  the  best  preserved,  and  the  most  famous. 
But  the  others  are  fit  companions,  and  the  giant 
forms  of  these  mighty  relics  of  hoary  antiquity, 
unsurpassed  by  any  other  edifice,  rise  before  the 
travelUir,  exciting  within  him  emotions  of  reveren- 
tial awe. 

The  party  visited  all  these  various  objects  of  in- 
terest, and  at  length  returned  to  the  gate.  They 
had  spent  a])out  two  hours  in  their  survey  of  P{es- 
tum,  and  had  seen  all  that  there  was  to  be  seen ; 
and  now  nothing  more  remained  but  to  return 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  spend  that  night  at 
Salerno.  They  had  seen  nothing  of  the  driver 
since  they  left  him,  and  they  accounted  for  this  on 
the  ground  that  he  was  still  maintaining  himself  in 
his  gigantic  sulk,  and  brooding  over  his  wrongs  ; 
and  they  thought  that  if  he  chose  to  make  a  fool 


62 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


of  himself,  they  would  allow  him  to  do  so  as  long 
as  it  was  agreeable  to  him. 

With  these  thoughts  they  approached  the  gate- 
way. As  they  drew  near,  they  were  surprised  to 
find  that  there  were  no  signs  of  the  carriag(\  The 
view  was  open  and  unobstructed.  Hero  and  there 
mounds  or  fragments  of  stone  arose  in  the  place 
where  once  had  been  the  wall  of  the  city  oi'  Pa?s- 
tum,  and  before  them  was  the  simple  arch  of  the 
massive  gateway,  but  no  carriage  or  horses  were 
visible. 

This  excited  their  surprise,  and  also  their  alarm. 
They  remembered  that  the  sullen  mood  of  tiie  dri- 
ver made  him  quite  capable  of  playing  off  some 
malicious  trick  upon  them,  and  they  recalled,  also, 
his  threats  of  the  evening  before.  Could  he  have 
chosen  this  way  to  put  his  threats  into  execution? 
It  seemed,  indeed,  very  nmch  like  it. 

Still,  there  was  one  hope  left.  It  was  just  pos- 
sible that  the  carriage  had  been  drawn  up  more 
under  the  arch,  so  that  it  was  iiidden  from  view. 
As  this  was  the  last  hope  that  was  lelt  them,  they 
hurried  forth  to  put  an  end  to  their  susjjcnse  as 
soon  as  possible.     Nearer  and  nearer  they  came. 

At  last  they  renched  the  arch. 

They  rushed  through  it,  and  lieyond  it. 

There  was  nothing  there  ! 

No  carriage  !     No  horses  !     No  driver ! 

At  this  they  all  stopped,  and  stai'ed  at  one  an- 
other in  silent  consternation. 


IS   TIIK    DUIVKU   A    TRAITOR  ? 


63 


"  IIo'h  gone,"  cried  Clivo.  "  He's  left  us  here — 
to  gi!t  back  the  best  way  wo  can." 

"  IIo  swore  last  night,"  said  David,  "thatho'd 
pay  US  up ;  and  this  is  tho  way  he's  done  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bub  ;  "  he's  been  sulky  all  day. 
He's  been  concocting  some  f>lan." 

"  I  don't  see  what  good  it'll  do  him,"  said  Frank. 
"He'll  lose  his  fare.     We  won't  pay  him." 

"  0,  he'll  give  up  that  for  the  pleasure  of  re- 
venge," said  Clive. 

"  VVal,  wal,  wal,"  cried  Uncle  Moses,  looking  all 
around  with  a  lace  of  dark  and  dolei'ul  perplexity. 
"  This  here  doos  beat  all  I  ever  seen  in  all  my  lii'o. 
An  now,  wdiat  upon  airth  we  can  do  —  I'm  sure  I 
can't  tell." 

"  Whatever  we  do,"  said  Frank,  "  it  won't  do  to 
wait  here.     It's  too  late  now." 

"  Perhaps  he  hasn't  run  oft'  at  all,"  said  David, 
who  always  was  inclined  to  believe  the  best  of 
people.  "  Perhaps  he  has  driven  up  the  roail,  and 
intends  to  retui-n." 

Frank  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  cried  he.  "  J  believe  the  scoundrel  has 
left  us.  We  paid  him  half  of  his  fare  at  Sorrento; 
the  rest  was  to  bo  paid  at  Naples;  but  ho  has 
thrown  that  u|),  in  t)rder  to  have  the  })leasuro  of 
being  revenged  on  us.  And  where  he's  gone  to 
now  is  a  mystery  to  me." 

"  O,  I  dare  say  he's  driven  oft'  to  Naples." 

"  Perhaps  so.     But  he   may  intend   something 


G4 


amont;  tiik  hhicandh. 


more.  I've  lieard  Hint  there  are  brigands  about 
here." 

"  Brigands  ! " 

"  Yes.  And  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  has  gone 
ofl'  with  the  intention  of  bringing  some  of  them 
here  to  pay  their  respects  to  us.  ITe  may  have 
started  oiT  immediately  after  we  left  him  ;  and,  if 
80,  he's  had  two  hours  already  —  time  enough,  aa 
1  think,  to  do  a  good  deal  of  mischief." 

"  Brigands  !  "  cried  Uncle  Moses,  in  a  voice  of 
horror.  He  stared  wildly  around,  and  then  looked, 
with  moistened  eyes,  upon  the  boys. 

"  0,  boys,"  he  sighed,  "  why  did  wo  ever  vcn- 
toor  out  so  far  in  this  here  I-talian  land,  or  why 
did  Ave  ever  come  to  Italy  at  all  ?  Brigands  !  It's 
what  I've  alius  dreaded,  an  alius  expected,  ever 
sence  I  fust  sot  foot  on  this  benighted  strand.  I 
ben  a  feelin  it  in  my  bones  all  d^y.  I  felt  it  a 
comin  over  me  yesterday,  when  the  mob  chased 
us  ;  but  now  —  our  hour  hcv  come  !  " 

"  Nonsense,  Uncle  Moses  ! "  cried  Frank,  in  a 
hearty,  joyous  voice.  "What's  the  use  of  giving 
up  in  that  fashion?  Cheer  up.  We'll  bo  all  right 
yet." 


1 


J 

! 


SITUATION   DISCUSSED. 


65 


CHAPTER  V. 

They  discuss  the  Situation.  —  They  prepare  to  foot  it.  —  A 
toilso»ie  Walk  and  a  happy  Discoi'ery.  —  Tlie  Lantj^uage 
of  Sii()is  once  more.  —  The  A  fountain  Cavalcade.  —  Iiol)''s 
Ambition.  —  Its  J^esults. — IJod  7'anishes.  —  Consterna- 
t'ln  of  the  Donkey  Boy. —  Consternation  of  the  Cavalcade. 
—  "  E  Perduto  !  " 


j^i]i|^|HE  mention  of  brigands  prodnccd  a  startling 


and  puwerfnl  effect  upon  the  whole  i)arty, 
and  after  Uncle  Moses'  wail  of  despair, 
and  Frank's  rebuke,  there  was  silence  lor  a  time. 

"Well,"  said  David,  "I  don't  know.  I  don't 
believe  in  brigands  altogether.  Millions  of  people 
come  to  Italy  without  seeing  anything  ol"  the  kind, 
and  why  should  we  ?  For  my  part,  I  still  think  it 
very  likely  that  the  driver  has  driven  back  to 
some  place  on  the  road  where  he  can  get  bettor 
entertainment  for  man  and  beast  than  is  offered  at 
Pfustum." 

''Where  could  he  go?"  said  Frank,  "There 
isn't  any  inn  for  miles." 

"  0,  you  don't  know,"  said  David.  "  There  are 
some  by-roads,  T  dare  say,  that  lead  to  houses  on 
the  hills.     I  dare  say  he'll  soon  be  back.     From 


66 


AMONG    THE    BRIOANDS. 


what  I've  seen  of  the  Itahans,  I  think  tliey'd  stand 
a  great  deal  heibre  loi^ing  any  money.  Tlie  driver 
wouhl  wait  tii'  he  got  his  ])ay,  and  then  try  tt*  take 
his  revenge." 

''  liiit  in  anv 


"  Well,  it  niav  he  so,"  said  Fran 


case,  it  will   he  best  for 


us 


to   stai't   oil"  at   onee. 


Thcr 


e  s  no  use  Avaitmir  iiere  anv  lona-ei 


AV 


e  can 


foot  it,  after  all.     And  we  may  eijme  to  houses,  or 
we  may  {)ick  up  a  wagon,  and  get  a  lift." 

This  was  evidently  the  best  thing  that  couM  be 
done,  and  so  they  all  at  once  set  o(f  on  foot,  on  their 


wav  l.)ac 


kt 


o 


ale  mo. 


Fortunately  for  them,  tliev  wt'ie  fjuite  fresh. 
They  had  been  driving  iill  tlie  miirning;  and  for 
two  hours  they  had  been  strolling  up  and  dewn 
within  a  small  circuit,  looking  at  tem[)les,  or  sprawl- 
ing on  tlie  grass.  They  had  eaten  a  good  lunch 
before  heaving  the  carriage,  and  had  net  Irad  time 
yet  to  feel  hungry.  The  weather  was  mild  ami 
pleasant.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  witliDUl  liein;^ 
too  hot,  an<l  e\erything  was  iavorable  to  a  walk. 
More  than  all,  the  roail  was  very  good,  and  not 
being  much  travelled,  it  was  grass-grown  to  a 
great  extent,  and  this  grass  ulfoi'ik'd  an  easy  and 
agreeable  patii  for  tlu'ir  feet. 

They  set  out  in  high  spii'its.  wall:ing  pretty 
vigorously,  yet  not  too  rapidly,  for  they  wished  to 
husband  their  strength,  chatting  all  the  while,  and 
debating  the  point  as  to  the  diivei-'s  intentions. 
Frank  maintained  that  he  had  deserted   thcin  out 


WALK   TOWAIiDS   SALERNO. 


67 


of  malice,  and  Bob  coincided  with  ihh  view. 
David,  on  tlie  otlier  hand,  believed  tb;ii  he  had 
merely  driven  avv^ay  to  find  refreshment,  anl  w.-iald 
return,  and  Clive  sided  with  him.  But.  a.?  mile 
after  mile  was  traversed,  and  still  no  ^igiif  <fA  the 
driver  appeared,  David's  theory  grew  vre^nt.  and 
Frank's  grew  strong.  As  for  Uncle  Moses,  he  said 
nothing,  his  feeling  being  chiefly  one  of  intense 
anxiety  to  get  the  boys  home  bei'ore  meeting  with 
brigands.  The  awful  images  of  Italian  l-aniditti, 
which  Frank's  words  had  called  up  ia  Li«  mind, 
were  not  to  bo  easily  got  rid  of. 

They  walked  on  for  about  Two  hour?,  aai  by 
that  time  l>ad  succeeded  in  putting  some  9*-ven  or 
eight  miles  between  themselves  and  Pa?-:t'ainn!.  The 
road  now  became  wider,  and  quite  free  fr-r'm  grass, 
giving  every  indication  of  being  a  weli-iiM'*! len 
thoroughfare,  and  exciting  the  hope  tbinS  they 
would  find  some  wine  cart  at  least,  or  oiher  mode 
of  conveyance,  by  means  of  which  they  cocM  com- 
plete their  journey  to  Salerno. 

Suddenly,  on  making  a  turn  iu  the  rc^l.  they 
saw  belbve  them  some  moving  objects,  the  si^iit  of 
which  elicited  a  shout  of  jo  ,•  from  Bob. 

"  Donkeys  !  Donkeys  !  "  ho  -Tied.  "  Hurrah, 
boys ! '' 

"  Why,  what  good  are  they?"  sai  1  D^vid. 

"  Good?  "  cried  Bol) ;  "  every  gooi^  in  \]i-:-  world. 
We  can  liiro  them,  or  buy  them,  and  ridf  Ivjick  to 
Salerno." 


€8 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS, 


"That's  a  capital  idea,"  cried  Frank,  in  great 
delight.  "  I  hoped  to  find  wine  carts,  or  ox  carts ; 
but  donkeys  are  infinitely  better." 

Hurrying  forward,  they  soon  overtook  the 
donkeys.  There  were  six  or  eight  of  them,  guided 
by  an  old  man  and  a  boy.  Frank  instantly  ac- 
costed them.  Of  course  he  could  not  speak  Italian, 
but  by  means  of  signs  he  succeeded  in  conveying 
to  the  old  man's  mind  the  requisite  idea.  On  this 
occasion  he  felt  most  strongly  the  benefit  ■which 
he  had  received  from  his  intercourse  with  Paolo. 
Frank  thus  pointed  to  his  feet,  and  then  l)ackward, 
and  then  forward,  and  then  pointing  to  the  donkey 
nearest,  he  made  a  motion  to  mount,  after  which  he 
showed  the  old  man  some  money,  and  tapping  it, 
and  pointing  to  the  donkey,  he  looked  inquiringly 
at  him,  as  if  to  ask,  "  How  much  ?" 

The  old  man  made  some  signs  which  seemed  to 
Frank  to  be  a  question,  "  How  far?"  so  he  roared 
out,  in  stentorian  tones,  "  f^alerno." 

Upon  this  the  old  man  stood  ibr  a  little  while  in 
silent  thought.  Tiien  he  looked  at  Frank,  and 
then,  pointing  with  one  hand  at  Frank's  money, 
with  the  other  lie  touched  the  donkey,  which 
seemed  to  say  that  he  would  let  the  donkey  go  lor 
that  price.  As  there  was  not  (]uite  a  dollar  in  Frank's 
hand,  in  loose  change,  the  charge  seemed  to  him 
to  1)0  very  reasonal)le,  and  ven,  as  he  expressed 
it,  "  dirt  cheap."  So  thought  all  the  rest,  and  they 
all  proceeded  to  bring  forth  their  loose  change, 


THE    LANGUAGE    OF   SIGNS. 


69 


and  pass  it  over  to  tlie  old  man.  The  bands  of  the 
latter  closed  over  the  silver,  with  a  nervous  and 
almost  convulsive  clutch,  and  after  one  long,  hun- 
gry look  at  each  lot  that  was  given  him,  he  would 
insert  each  very  carefully  in  the  remote  corner  of 
an  old  sheepskin  pouch  that  hung  in  front  of  him, 
suspended  around  his  waist. 

But  now  arose  a  dilHculty.  The  donkeys  had 
no  saddles.  That  was  a  small  matter,  however, 
and  was  not  the  real  difficulty.  The  real  difficulty 
lay  in  the  iiict  that  they  had  no  bridles.  How 
could  they  guide  them? 

Frank  tried  by  signs  to  express  this  difficulty  to 
the  old  man,  and  the  latter  understood  him,  for  he 
smile'l,  nodded,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  then 
pointed  to  his  hoy,  and  waved  his  hand  in  the 
direction  they  wished  to  go.  The  l)oy  also  smiled 
and  nodded,  and  made  signs  of  his  own,  by  which 
he  plainly  showed  them  that  he  intended  to  ac- 
comj)any  them  as  guide,  and  lead  the  drove,  while 
they  might  ride. 

This  being  understood,  the  boys  felt  satisfied, 
and  each  one  now  proceeded  to  select  the  donkey 
which  was  most  to  his  taste.  Bol)  had  already 
made  his  selection,  and  was  mounted  on  the  back 
of  the  l)iggest  donkey  of  the  lot  —  an  animal  whoso 
size,  breadth  of  chest,  and  slender  limbs  gave  him 
an  air  of  actual  elegance.  All  the  l)oys  envied 
Bob  his  mount;  but  none  of  them  comi)lained. 
Frank  secured  a  solid  animal,  that  liad  a  matter-of- 


70 


AMOXn   THE   BRIGANDS. 


fact  expression,  and  looked  as  though  liu  had  no 
nonsense  in  liini.  Clive  clioso  one  that  had  a 
slight  shade  of  melancholy  in  his  face,  as  though 
he  had  known  sorrow.  David's  donkey  was  a 
shaggy,  hard-headed,  dogged-looking  animal,  that 
seemed  bent  on  having  his  o\vii  way.  Undo 
Moses' mount  was  rather  eccentric.  IJc  chose  the 
smallest  animal  of  the  lot,  —  a  donkey,  in  fact, — 
which  was  so  small  that  its  rider's  feet  could  only 
be  kept  from  the  ground  with  difKculty.  Uncle 
Moses,  indeed,  if  ho  had  chosen,  might  have  taken 
steps  on  the  ground,  and  accelerated  the  motion 
of  his  l)east  by  })ropelling  him  with  his  own  feet. 

Great  was  the  laughter  that  arose  among  the 
party  as  each  one  mounted  his  gallant  steed,  and 
turned  to  look  ujion  his  companit)n.  Jeers,  and 
jokes,  and  light  chaff  arose,  and  the  boys  found  no 
end  of  fun  in  this  new  adventure.  But  Undo 
Moses  wasn't  able  to  sec  any  fun  in  it  at  all.  IIo 
sat  with  an  expression  on  his  face  that  would  have 
done  honor  to  a  martyr  at  the  stake,  and  the  boys 
respected  him  too  much  to  include  him  in  their 
good-natured  raillery. 

The  Italian  boy  took  David's  donkey  by  the  ear, 
and  started.  David's  donkey,  in  si)ite  oi'  his  ap- 
pearance of  obstinac}^,  followed  without  resistance, 
and  trotted  nimldy  oft",  the  Italian  boy  ruiniing 
easily  by  his  side.  The  other  donkeys  followed. 
As  they  had  no  bridles  and  no  saddles,  some  of 
the  party  had  a  little  diiliculty  in  preserving  their 


BOBS    RTDE. 


71 


balance,  but  managed  to  do  so  by  grabbing  the 
coar.^o  hair  of  the  donkey's  mane.  The  pace  was  a 
rapid  one,  and  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how  w^cll 
the  Itiilian  boy  kept  up  with  them  without  losing 
breath,  or  slackening  it.  This  he  did  for  a  long 
time. 

Among  those  who  cared  nothing  for  saddle  or 
bridle  was  Bob,  On  the  back  of  a  donkey  he  felt 
as  comfortable  as  though  ho  was  sitting  in  an  easy- 
chair.  As  they  trotted  along  the  njad,  iJob  sat 
with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  legs  now  hanging 
loosely,  now  drawn  up  in  front  of  him,  and  at 
other  times  pretending  that  he  had  a  side-saddle. 
At  length  he  became  discontL-nted  with  the  sul)- 
ordinate  position  that  he  was  occu])ying,  in  merely 
following  in  the  rear  of  a  leader  like  David.  Ho 
was  a  liir  better  rider  than  Havid,  and  his  donkey 
a  far  better  donkey  than  the  leading  one.  With 
the  ambitious  desire  to  obtain  the  post  of  honor  for 
himself,  ho  boat,  pounded,  and  kicked  at  his  don- 
key. For  a  long  tiiue  this  had  no  effect  whatever; 
the  donkey  not  only  was  not  stimulated  by  it,  but 
he  did  not  even  seem  to  be  conscious  of  it.  At 
last  Hob  determined  to  resort  to  other  methods. 
Drawing  a  pin  from  his  shiit  colliii-,  where  it  was 
filling  the  place  of  a  lost  button,  he  stuck  it  two 
or  three  times  in  the  donkey's  Hanks. 

This  was  too  nnich.  The  patience  of  Bob's 
(h)nkey  had  reached  its  farthest  limit.  It  could 
endure  it  no  more. 


72 


AMONG   THK    BRKJANDS. 


With  a  wild  bound  the  donkey  sprang  forward, 
and  in  three  paces  had  cleared  the  way  to  the  first. 
Another  leap,  and  he  was  beyond  them. 

The  donkey  ran  like  a  race-horse.  His  slender, 
sinewy  limbs  seemed  as  fitted  for  running  and  for 
speed  as  the  limbs  of  an  antelope.  His  head  was 
down,  his  neck  arched,  his  tail  in  the  air,  and  his 
long-,  rapid  strides  bore  him  with  astonishing  velo- 
city liir  ahead  and  far  away. 

The  Italian  boy  uttered  a  cry  of  dismay,  and 
stopped  short.  The  donkey  which  he  was  holding 
stopped  also,  and  the  others  did  the  same.  The 
Italian  boy  looked  with  a  fiice  of  consternation 
after  the  runaway.  All  the  rest  looked  with  vague 
fears  in  the  same  direction,  and  with  a  half  hope 
that  Bob  might  stop  the  animal,  or  turn  him. 

'■^  E  perduto!"  exclaimed  the  Italian  boy;  and 
though  they  did  not  understand  Italian,  yet  there 
was  something  in  his  tone,  and  look,  and  gesture, 
which  told  them  the  meaning  of  those  words  — 
"  He's  lost  1  " 


bob's  flight. 


78 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Flight  of  Bob.  —  Difference  between  a  tame  Donkey  and  a 
■wild  Ass. —  Carried  off  to  the  Mountains.  —  The  Head- 
long Course.  —  The  Mountain  J'ass.  —  The  Journey's 
End.  —  Ill-omened  Place.  —  Confounded  by  a  new  Terror. 
—  The  Brigands. 

'1        t 
*»M^rIIEN  the   donkey  first  bounded  oiT,  the 

11  if^      ftJt^lingrt  of  J3ob  were  nothing  but  ])ure, 

4,4,        unmitigated    delight.     As    his    spirited 

animal,  roused  from  his  indifference,  Inirst  through 

the    crowd   and   reached    the    head,    Bob's    heart 

swelled  with  triumph.     As    he  rushed  along  the 

road,  far  ahead  of  the  rest,  his  triumph  increased. 

lie  turned  his  head,  and  waved  his  hands   to  his 

friends.     Then  he  waved  his  cap  in  the  air,  and 

shouted,    •*  Hurrah  !  "     Then  he   rode    side-saddle 

fashion  for  a  little  while,  then  he  drew  both  legs 

up  in  front,  and  then  he  indulged  in  a  series  of 

absurd  and  fantastic  tricks. 

All  this  Bob  did  because  he  supposed  that  he 

was  riding  ahead  of  his  friends,  and  that  they  were 

following    him,  and    admiring    him.     He    had  not 

made  any  calculation  as  to  the  great  rate  of  speed 

at  which  his  donkey  was  carrying  him,  and  had 


74 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


no  idea  how  quickly  ho  was  leaving  all  the  rest 
behind.  So,  while  ho  had  been  indulging  in  his 
pranks  for  the  amusement  of  those  whom  he  sup- 
posed to  be  following  him,  he  was,  in  reality,  al- 
ready beyond  the  reaeli  of  their  eyes. 

For  his  d(jnkey  was  an  animal  very  far  superior 
to  the  common  herd.  lie  was  not  a  doakey  —  ho 
was  an  ass  —  spirited,  slender,  sinewy,  and  fleet 
as  a  race-horse.  There  was  something  so  peculiar- 
ly easy  in  the  ass's  gait  that  it  deceived  the  rider. 
It  seemed  to  him  to  bo  a  gentle  ambling  trot,  or 
something  midway  between  that  and  a  canter.  In 
reality  this  easy  pace  was  exceedingly  swift,  and 
before  long  Bob  was  out  of  sight  of  his  friends. 
This  discovery  burst  upon  him  as  he  turned,  with 
the  intention  of  shouting  back  some  nonsense  to 
them,  when,  to  his  utter  amazement  and  consterna- 
tion, he  saw  no  signs  of  them  whatever. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  shock  which  this 
discovery  gave  to  Bob  was  a  very  powerful  one. 
He  looked  all  around  in  anxious  curiosity,  with 
the  endeavor  to  comprehend  his  situation.  His  first 
thought  was,  that  some  accident  had  hap})ened 
to  the  party  which  was  delaying  them  ;  but  soon 
he  became  aware  of  his  own  tremendous  progress, 
and  understood  the  true  state  of  the  case.  He  was 
now  in  a  place  where  the  road  ran  straight  for  over 
a  mile.  At  the  end  of  this  it  turned.  As  Bob 
reached  this  turning-place,  ho  looked  back  again, 
and  far  away,  just  at  the  entrance  upon  the  straight 


BOB'S   FLKJHT. 


75 


piece  of  road,  ho  saw  the  party  coming.  A  few 
seconds  and  iio  was  once  more  carried  out  of 
sight. 

And  now  IJob  began  to  i'eel  that  his  situation 
was  a  serious  one.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  bo 
carried  away  in  this  manner,  in  a  strange  country, 
on  the  back  of  an  animal  like  this.  Had  it  been  a 
runaway  horse,  ho  would  have  felt  less  troubled. 
lie  would,  in  fact,  have  felt  quite  at  home,  for  ho 
had  been  frequently  run  away  with  on  horseback. 
He  understood  horses,  but  of  asses  he  knew 
nothing.  A  horse  was  to  some  extent  a  sensible 
animal.  lie  would  run  away,  and  in  duo  time 
would  come  to  a  pause.  But  an  ass  !  Was  an  ass 
possessed  of  any  sense  of  decency  —  any  con- 
science? Would  the  well-known  obstinacy  of  the 
ass  bo  shown  on  an  occasion  like  this?  and  would 
this  ass,  merely  out  of  that  obstinacy,  keep  on 
running  for  all  tho  rest  of  the  day  ?  It  was  a 
startling  thought. 

Bob  all  this  time  had  been  making  desperate  ef- 
forts to  stop  tho  ass.  Ho  was  considerably  em- 
barrassed by  tho  fact  that  there  was  no  bridle,  and 
no  way  of  getting  at  tho  ass,  so  as  to  exert  his 
strength  upon  him.  He  tried  various  ways.  First 
he  pulled  at  his  long  ears.  For  this  the  ass  cared 
not  a  whit.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious  of  it. 
Then  he  wound  his  hands  about  his  neck,  and 
tried  to  pull  his  head  back.  The  eflect  was  use- 
less.    Bob's  strength  was   unavailing.     He  could 


76 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


no  more  move  that  bont  and  stubborn  neck,  than 
he  could  straighten  tlio  crooked  fluke  nfan  anchor. 
Then  he  pounded  wildly  upon  the  neck,  siioulders, 
and  flanks  of  the  ass,  and  kicked  against  liis  sides. 
This,  too,  was  useless,  for  his  puny  blows  seemed 
to  affect  the  animal  no  more  than  so  many  puffs  of 
wind.  Then  Bol)  tried  other  means.  Ho  sat  up- 
right, and  suddenly  called,  in  a  'lort,  sharp,  per- 
emptory voice,  "  Whoa!"  This  !,>•  repeated  over 
and  over,  but  without  any  success;  and  at  length 
he  reflected  that  lohoa  was  English,  a  language 
which,  of  course,  an  Italian  ass  could  not  under- 
stand. 

While  Bob  had  been  putting  forth  these  efforts, 
the  ass  had  been  flying  along  at  an  undiminished 
rate  of  speed,  and  the  country  swept  past  iiim  on 
either  side.  He  passed  long  lines  of  trees  by  the 
roadside,  he  saw  field  after  field  flit  by,  and  the 
distant  hills  went  slowly  along  out  of  the  line  of 
his  vision.  Hitherto  he  had  met  with  no  one  at  all 
along  the  road,  nor  had  ho  seen  any  cattle  of  any 
kind.  His  efforts  to  arrest  the  ass  had  been  fruit- 
less, and  he  gave  them  up,  and  looked  forward  for 
some  opportunity  to  get  assistance.  Ho  I'cMncm- 
bered  that  the  road  had  no  towns  or  inns  between 
Psestum  and  Salerno,  and  ho  began  to  fear  that  he 
would  be  carried  all  the  way  to  the  latter  place 
before  he  could  sto[). 

His  fears,  however,  were  unfounded  ;  for  now  an 
event   occurred   which   made    him   full   of    other 


bob's  flight. 


77 


thoughts.  It  was  u  sudden  chiingc  in  the  course 
of  his  Uight,  Thus  liir  they  had  hoeu  going  along 
the  main  road.  Now,  however,  they  came  to  a 
phico  where  a  road  K:'d  away  on  the  right,  ap- 
parently to  the  mountains.  Without  tiie  shghtcst 
pause  or  hesitation,  hut  with  undiminished  speed, 
and  the  headlong  flight  ol"  one  familiar  with  the 
way,  the  ass  turned  from  the  main  road,  and  ran 
into  tills  side  road. 

The  anxiety  and  fear  which  Bolt  had  thus  far  felt 
were  trifling,  indeed,  compared  with  the  emotions 
that  now  seized  upon  him.  Thus  far  he  had  not 
felt  altogether  cut  off  from  his  friends.  He  knew 
all  the  time  that  the}'  were  hehind  him,  and  that  at 
the  worst  he  could  not  be  carried  farther  than 
Salerno,  and  that  they  would  come  up  with  him 
there,  and  thus  they  would  all  be  reunited  before 
dark.  But  now  he  was  suddenly  carried  off  help- 
lessly from  the  main  road,  and  in  a  moment  seemed 
severed  from  his  friends.  Where  was  he  going? 
When  would  the  ass  stop? 

Before  him  arose  the  mountainous  country,  not 
many  miles  away,  the  declivities  in  some  places 
slight  and  gradual,  in  other  places  abrupt.  Cul- 
tivated spots  ai)peared  here  and  there,  and  white 
villages,  and  old  castles.  It  was  not,  however,  an 
inviting  country,  and  the  nearer  he  drew  to  it  the 
less  he  liked  it.  The  road  here  was  not  so  broad, 
and  smooth,  and  easy  as  the  one  he  had  just  left, 
but  was  narrow  and  rough.     At  length  he  reached 


78 


AMONG   TITE   BRIGANDS. 


tho  skirts  of  the  mountiiins.  and  tlie  road  now 
began  to  ascend.  After  a  wliile  it  grew  Homcwiiat 
steeper,  and  decidedly  ron^lier.  And  now  IJob 
found,  to  his  immense  relief,  that  tho  pace  was  at 
last  beginning;'  to  tell  npon  the  tough  winewa  of 
the  fiery  animal  which  ho  liestrode.  Tho  ass 
could  not  keei)up  8ucli  a  pace  while  ascending  tho 
mountain.  Gradually  his  speed  slackened,  and 
Bol»  at  length  began  to  look  about  for  a  soft  place, 
where  he  cuuld  jump. 

But  by  this  time  the  road  entered  what  looked 
like  a  pass  among  the  mountains.  On  one  sido 
tho  hill  rose,  wooded  in  some  places,  in  others 
rocky ;  while  on  the  other  side  it  went  down  steep 
for  about  thirty  feet,  where  a  mcmntain  torrent 
brawled,  and  dashed  over  its  rocky  bed.  It  was 
about  hero  that  the  ass  slackened  his  pace  suf- 
ficiently for  Bob  to  jump  from  his  back ;  but  just 
hero  it  was  impossible  to  juni})  without  the  risk  of 
breaking  some  of  his  bones,  and  lie  was  not  yet 
quite  desperate  enough  to  run  such  a  risk  as  that. 

As  the  road  went  on  through  the  pass,  it  grew 
narrower  and  steeper,  quite  imi)assable  for  car- 
riages, and  only  fit  for  travellers  on  horse  or  foot. 
The  farther  on  it  went,  tho  rougher  and  steeper  it 
became,  and  it  went  on  with  many  a  winding.  No 
houses  appeared,  except  at  a  great  distance,  and 
those  which  did  thus  appear  seemed  separated  by 
deep  valleys  from  the  place  wdiere  he  was. 

Bob   could   havo    easily    dismounted   from   tho 


AMONG   THK   MOUNTAINS. 


79 


donkey  now  ;  l)ut  ho  hesitated.  TTo  thought  with 
fiorno  dismay  upon  the  distance  that  lay  between 
liim  and  the  main  road.  He  thouglit  that  his 
friends  must  have  passed  beyond  t\ui  place  where 
he  turned  oil',  and  that  it'  h(!  did  go  l)ack  he  could 
not  hope  to  meet  them.  Hesidcs,  to  go  so  long  a 
distance  on  foot  was  too  formiilablu  a  task  just  now. 
He  iioped  that  the  ass  had  some  aim  in  directing 
his  course  here,  and  that  lie  was  seeking  his  home. 
Periiaps  that  home  was  close  by.  Perhaps  it  was 
some  village  in  the  mountains.  If  so,  he  might  bo 
al)le  to  obtain  a  mount  for  Salerno,  and  still  reach 
that  place  before  night  was  over. 

He  hoped  thus  to  find  help  —  to  get  a  horse  or 
an  as8,  and  also  something  to  eat,  and  thus  set 
forth  for  Salerno.  As  the  road  wound  on,  and  as 
he  traversed  it,  he  looked  eagerly  at  every  project- 
ing cliif  belbro  him ;  and  as  he  rounded  each  pro- 
jection he  still  looked  forward  eagerly  in  search  of 
the  place,  whether  house  or  village,  where  he 
might  obtain  the  help  of  which  he  stood  in  need. 
But  the  road  continued  lonely.  He  saw  no  houses, 
no  villages,  in  its  vicinity.  He  met  with  no  living 
things,  whether  men  or  cattle.  It  was  the  loneliest 
path  he  had  ever  traversed. 

At  last  ho  rounded  a  projecting  spur  of  the 
mountain;  and  here  he  beheld  a  scene  which  was 
more  promising.  A  little  distance  otf  tliere  was  a 
bridge,  which  crossed  the  torrent.  Beyond  this 
the  mountains  sloped  away  in  an  easy  declivity, 


80 


AMONG    THE    BRIGANDS. 


where  appeared  several  houses.  On  the  otiior  side 
of  the  bridge  were  two  ini'ii.  The  si<j:;lit  li'^ed  Bob 
with  joy,  and  fearing  that  the  ass  might  once  more 
take  it  into  his  heafl  to  run,  lie  at  once  leaped  off 
the  aniniiil's  l)ack,  and  walked  towards  the  bridge. 
The  a?:s.  freed  from  his  weight,  trotted  briskly 
away,  and  J>ol>  followed.  "^I'he  noise  of  the  ass 
trotting  over  the  bridge  roused  the  two  men,  and 
they  walked  across  and  caught  liini.  One  ol  them 
then  field  him,  and  the  other  walked  towards  Bob. 

As  the  latter  ai)proached.  Bob  noticed  that  he  was 
dirty  and  bearded,  and  rather  shabby.  He  had  a 
coarse  jacket,  with  brass  buttons  ;  a  red  flannel 
shirt,  which  was  open,  and  disclosed  a  hairy  lireast  : 
and  coarse  leather  breeches  with  leggings.  A 
conical  felt  hat  was  on  the  tup  of  Ids  head.  Thus 
far  lie  was  simply  the  counterpart  of  hundreds  of 
other  peasants  in  this  part  of  the  country,  shep- 
herds, drovers,  wine-sellers,  <fcc.,  such  as  he  had 
encountered  during  his  drive.  But  in  one  im- 
portant respect  he  was  different. 

He  had  a  gun  in  his  hand. 

This  gun  at  once  made  him  seem  more  than  a 
simple  peasant.  It  inad(^  a  [irofound  impression 
upc^n  Bob.  And  as  the  Italian  approached,  with 
his  eyes  fi.xed  on  the  new  comer,  a  strange  and 
very  natural  susjiieion  was  roused  in  Bob's  mind. 

"  It's  a  brigand  !  "  he  thought.     "  I'm  lost ! "' 


THE   LUHKING-PLACE   OF   THE   BEIGAXUS. 


81 


CHAPTER   VII. 


The  I.inki)i_i;-p.'aci'  of  (he  Ihii^uinds.  —  The  capti'pe B«r. — 
The  liidcous  Household. —  The  horrible  old  Ha^. —  Tkd 
slattern  Woman.  —  The  dirty  Children.  —  The  edJ  Cr^f/td 
and  the  ei'il  Eye.  —  Despondency  of  Bof'.  —  Is  Ei:apt 
Possible?  — Xii^ht.  —  Imprisoned.  —  The  Ted ./ St^s-^-.— 
Outlook  into  I  he  A/'it^ht  from  the  Prison  lVin.dc-:fj,. 


.fey 


A      HRKJAND! 

^  Mirh   was  the   apjialling  thou^t  that 

cainc  T(i  the  mind  ol'  Bob,  as  tLe  Iiaiiau 
advanced  towards  liim.  As  he  came  cki?<-r.  his 
face  became  more  distinctly  revealed.  It  wa?  not 
a  face  winch  reassured  him.  Heavy,  shfag-ffv  jilaek 
eyebrows,  from  bencatli  which  gleamed  bia"'k  and 
fiery  eyes,  a  skin  browned  by  the  hot.  Italiam  sun, 
and  wiiite  teetli,  that  glistened  fri.>m  behirid  a  vast 
matted  mass  of  tangled  beard  and  moustaKrlie. — 
such  was  the  face  that  appeared.  It  t^eemeil  an 
evil  and  sinister  lace  —  a  face  that  reveale*!  a 
cruel  ami  treacherous  soul.  No  wonder  that  Rr^h's 
heart  sank  within  him  as  he  saw  himself  conircnted 
by  one  like  this. 

The  Italian  stood  looking  at  him  with  sluutpaiid 
close  scrutiny.     I'hen  ho  said  something. 
6 


82 


AMOXO    TTTE   BRTflANDS. 


Bob  could  nut  understand  him,  and  tried  to  ox- 
plain  by  signs  that  he  had  lost  liis  way,  and  that 
the  dttnkey  had  run  away  with  him.  lie  also 
pointed  to  himself,  and  said,  "  Americano,"  ami 
waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  road  up 
which  he  had  come,  and  said,  "  Saleiiio."  This  was 
Very  well  for  Bob,  especially  when  his  anxiety  of 
mind  is  taken  into  account,  and  his  signs  seemed 
intelligible  to  the  Italian.  lie  looked  at  Bol)  care- 
fully, and  finally  seemed  to  make  out  an  exjjlaua- 
tion  of  his  a])pearance,  which  satisfied  him,  after 
which  he  motioned  to  him  to  folloAV,  and  walked 
back  towards  the  bridge.  Bob's  first  impulse  was 
to  rush  away,  and  run  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 
carry  him;  but  the  thought  of  the  Italian's  gun 
checked  the  impulse,  and  he  followed. 

Meanwhile,  the  other  brigand,  who  had  caught 
the  ass,  stood  stroking  it  and  examining  it.  The 
animal  seemed  perfectly  (piiet  and  docile  ;  alto- 
gether a  changed  animal,  different  far  from  that 
wild  beast  that  had  torn  Bob  away  from  all  hi«( 
friends,  and  thrown  him  here  among  these  dread 
associates.  This  other  man  had  very  much  the 
same  general  appearance  as  the  first  one.  His 
beard  was  reddish,  and  his  eyes  were  smaller,  the 
general  expression  of  his  ftice  was  more  sinister,  as 
Bob  thought,  and  tliough  he  had  no  gun,  yet  he 
seemed  none  the  less  formidable. 

The  two  men  stood  talking  together  for  some 
time.     One  of  them  seemed  to  be  narrating  to  the 


re 


THE   CAPTIVE    IJOY. 


.11  no 
tho 


other  Bob's  accuunt  of  liimself,  as  lio  had  under- 
stood it  iVum  the  signs  that  had  been  made.  After 
this  they  seemed  to  be  discussing  tho  subject  of 
Bob  and  the  ass,  for  they  looked  at  him  and  at  the 
am'mal  fnua  time  to  time  during  their  conversa- 
tion. At  length  they  seemed  to  hav(?  made  up 
their  minds  about  the  subject,  for  they  sto{.ped 
talking;  and  mutii)ning  Bob  to  follow,  they  walked 
away,  leading  the  ass  with  them. 

Again  a  stn.>ng  impulse  rose  in  Bob's  mind  to 
tiy  ;  but  again  the  dread  of  being  shot  at  prevented 
him.     He  therefore  followed  as  belbre. 

There  was  in  this  place  a  circular  sweep  of  hills 
enclosing  a  valley,  through  which  the  brook  ran. 
Crossing  this  by  a  bridge,  the  roatl  woun<l  along  a 
gentle  declivity,  and  iKjt  very  far  away  were  one 
or  two  houses.  One  of  these  was  two  stories  high, 
nmch  dilapidated,  and  look('(l  as  though  it  might 
once  have  been  a  wind-mill,  or  something  of  that 
sort.  It  stood  on  the  vi\':::i-  of  the  torrent,  and  the 
door-way  was  towards  the  road.  The  other  build- 
ings seemed  to  be  barns  of  some  sort,  or  sheep- 
iblds.  The  grassy  declivity  sjtread  away  till  it 
reached  a  steeper  ascent,  and  here  there  began  a 
forest  which  covered  the  mountain-sides. 

Towards  this  old  mill  Bob  was  led  by  his  captors. 
As  he  drew  near  he  saw  some  dirty  children  at 
play,  in  front  of  the  (loi)r-way.  Soon  an  old  woman 
came  out,  Ibllowed  by  another,  v.dio  was  younger. 
The  old  Avoman  was  a   hideous  old   crone.     Her 


84 


AMONG    THE    BRIGANDS. 


hair  was  a  matted  gray  mass,  her  teeth  were 
gone,  and  her  face  was  pinched,  and  so  seamed 
with  wrinkles,  that  she  looked  as  though  she 
might  be  over  a  hundred  years  old.  The  other 
woman  was  very  dirty  and  slatternly.  She  had  a 
dirty  baby  in  her  arms  ;  lier  hair  was  in  disorder, 

•hed,  and  a  filthy 


her  fii 


d 


smoui 

cloth,  which  might  once  have  been  white,  was  on 
her  head.  The  women  and  children  wiM-e  all  bare- 
foot. As  Bob  approached,  they  all  stared  at  him 
with  the  most  intense  curiosity ;  the  two  women 
stood  still  and  stared  ;  the  children  stop[)ed  their 
play  and  stared  ;  and  there  was  something  in  the 
glow  and  glitter  of  all  these  liery,  black,  Italian 
eyes  which  seemed  horrible  to  poor  Bob,  and  made 
his  flesh  fairly  creep. 

The  men  then  began  to  talk  to  the  women,  evi- 
dently explaining  about  Bob  and  the  ass:  and  as 
they  talked  the  eyes  of  all  of  them  were  most  of 
the  time  fixed  upon  these  two.  As  for  the  chil- 
dren, they  glared  for  a  time  with  very  evil  looking 
faces  at  Bob  ;  but  at  length  the  ass  seemed  to 
offer  superior  attractions  to  them,  for  they  made  a 
rush  at  it,  climbed  on  its  l)ack.  pulled  at  its  ears 
and  tail,  and  tormented  it  in  various  ways.  Strange 
to  say,  this  animal,  that  had  punished  poor  Bob's 
h'ttle  trick  so  fearfully,  showed  no  resentment 
whatever  at  his  f)resent  treatment,  but  stood  there, 
no  longer  the  fiery  wild  ass,  but  the  very  living 
image  of  a  patient  donkey. 


ui 
in 


ir.- 
be 


i.n 
litl 


bob's   DKSI'OXDKNCV. 


85 


Bob  stood  there  looking  upon  tho  scene  with  his 
heart  sinking;  within  him,  yet  by  no  means  (le- 
spairing.  lie  had  too  high  a  s[)irit  and  too  stout  a 
heart  to  give  up  so  soon ;  and  as  he  stood  there,  in 
the  power  of  tiiis  evil  company,  lie  turned  over  in 
his  mind  a  hundred  difTereiit  modes  of  escape.  If 
he  couhl  t)nee  elfect  his  escape  {"rom  these  people, 
he  might  easily  go  back  by  the  mountain  path. 
But  how  could  he  escape  ?  That  was  the  difHculty. 
Thus  far,  to  his  amazement,  tiiey  had  not  inflicted 
any  cruelty  upon  him,  nor  had  they  tied  his  hands; 
but  that  was,  no  doubt,  owing  to  their  contempt 
for  him,  and  their  conviction  that  he  would  not 
venture  to  Hy.  All  that  Bob  had  ever  heard  about 
the  manners  and  customs  of  Italian  brigands  now 
came  to  his  mind  —  how  they  detain  their  prison- 
ers subject  to  a  ransom,  treating  them  well  enough 
until  tho  ransom  comes,  but  if  it  fails,  then  inflict- 
ing U{)on  them  the  most  horrible  cruelties.  To 
Bob  it  now  seemed  certain  that  they  intended  to 
hold  him  for  ransom,  and  that  they  Avould  treat 
him  well  till  he  should  be  freed.  As  he  felt  cer- 
tain i  '  "lit  obtaining  his  i-ansom,  ho  began  to  i'al 
less  anxious,  and  his  bohl  and  enterprising  spirit 
began  t  ■  conceive  various  ways  by  which  he  might 
Li^fHe  the  brigands. 

At  length  one  of  the  men  went  off,  and  tho 
younger  of  the  women  went  into  the  house.  The 
brigand  with  the  gun  remained,  an<l  talk(>d  for  a 
little  while  with  the  old   woman.     It  was  evident 


86 


AMONG   THE    IRIGANDS. 


to  Bob,  by  the  glances  which  Wwy  tlirew  at  him, 
that  ho  was  the  subject  of  their  conversation.  To 
him  the  ohl  woman  was  by  far  tlie  most  obnoxious 
of  the  whole  crowd.  Tlie  slatternly  woman,  the 
dirty,  im])ish  children, the  brigands, — all  these  were 
bad  enough;  but  the  old  woman  was  far  worse  to 
liis  imagination.  Tlier(3  was  in  her  watery  eyes, 
in  the  innumerable  Avrinkles  of  her  leathery  skin, 
in  her  toothless  jaws,  something  so  uncanny  that 
ho  almost  shuddered.  ?he  reminded  liiiu  of  some 
of  those  witches  of  whom  he  had  read,  who,  in 
former  and  more  superstitious  ages,  were  supposed 
to  have  dealings  with  the  evil  one,  and  whose 
looks  certainly  sustained  such  a  supposition.  To 
]]ob,  at  that  time,  it  seemed  that  if  ever  any  one 
did  in  reality  have  dealings  with  the  evil  one,  that 
one  was  the  old  hag  beliin<l  him.  To  him  she 
seemed  a  witch:  he  thought  of  her  as  a  witch; 
and  if  she  had  at  thii'  time  put  on  a  peaked  hat, 
ijtraddled  a  broomstick,  and  flown  off  through  the 
air,  it  would  scarcely  have  sur{)rised  him. 

At  length  the  brigand  went  oil',  and  the  old  wo- 
man caine  up  ttj  Bob.  At  her  approach  Bob  in- 
voluntarily shrank  hack  iv  stej)  or  two.  The  old 
hag  fixt.'d  her  sinall,  watery  eyes  on  him,  nuinibhid 
with  her  toothless  jaws,  and  after  a  few  cllbrts 
croaked  out  something  in  Italian,  flillowed  by  some 
gi'stures  with  her  hands,  which  Hob  understood  to 
convey  a  general  a-snrance  of  safety.  For  this  he 
was  prepared,  since  his  mind  was  now  fixed  upon 


TIIK    OIJ)    HAG. 


87 


wo- 
j  in- 
old 

i1)1.m1 
Verts 
some 
)(1  to 
IS  lie 
ii[)on 


the  idea  that  Ik;  would  Ix;  kept  for  a  ransom. 
Then  the  old  woman  came  nearer,  and  put  one  of 
her  tliin,  bony,  shriveUed  hands  on  his  shoulder. 
Tlie  touch  was  like  the  touch  of  a  skeleton,  and 
sugfi^ested  horrible  tlioughts  to  poor  Bob.  A  thrill 
of  disgust  and  terror  sh(jt  through  him;  but  ho 
stood  it,  for  he  tlid  not  like  to  show  his  disgust,  lor 
fear  of  ollending  his  hideous  eomf)anion.  The  old 
woman,  then  standing  before  him  with  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder,  look(;d  at  him  for  a  long  time  in 
silence.  Bob  looked  back  at  her,  and  it  seemeil  to 
him  that  he  had  never  seen,  in  all  his  life,  such  a 
hideous  face.  The  wrinkles  were  now  more  plain- 
ly visible,  the  jaws  seemed  to  be  more  retreating, 
the  cheeks  were  sunken,  the  cheek-bones  project- 
ing, the  eyes,  small  and  weak,  showed  tears  that 
slowly  trickled  down. 

Suddenly  the  old  hag  gave  a  low  groan,  which 
Bob  attributed  U)  some  pain  or  other,  and  turned 
away.  He  noticed  that  she  was  trembling,  and 
thought  it  was  the  weakness  of  her  extreme  old 
age.  He  was  puzzled  by  these  movements  of  hers, 
and  felt  sure  that  they  meant  no  good.  Alter  a 
few  minutes  she  turned  again,  and  beckoned  to 
him  to  follow.  She  led  the  way  into  the  house. 
On  reaching  the  door  Bi>b  hesitated,  and  stood 
without  looking  in.  He  saw  a  large  apaitnient 
occujjying  all  tlu'  lower  story  ol'  the  old  mill,  with 
some  rude  seats  and  rough  beds.  A  long  ladder 
led  up  tu  the  up[)er  story.     The  oUl  woman  beck- 


88 


AMONG    TIIK   BRIGANDS. 


oned  for  liim  to  come  in,  and  Boh  did  not  like  to 
refuse.  »^o  ho  went  in.  She  then  lirought  ibrth 
some  cold  mutton  and  black  hread,  which  she 
ofTered  him.  IJol)  was  ravenously  hungry;  but  at 
that  nK>ment  an  idea  came  to  him — a  suspicion 
that  was  created  by  the  very  sinister  aspect  and 
very  singular  behavior  of  the  old  crone.  The 
susj>iciun  was,  that  it  was  drugged  or  poisoned. 
This  susj)icii)n  was  not  at  all  in  accordance  with 
the  idea  that  they  were  keeping  him  Ini-  a  ransom, 
but  it  was  an  irrepressible  one,  and  though  hungry, 
he  did  not  dare  to  eat.  So  he  sliook  his  head. 
Upon  this  the  old  hag  took  the  things  away,  and 
Bob  went  out  again. 

The  dirty  children  had  been  ])laying  with  the 
dtmkey  all  this  time,  and  still  ke[)t  uj»  their  sport; 
but  in  the  midst  of  their  sport  they  still  liad 
curiosity  enougli  to  keep  their  eyes  from  time  to 
time  upon  the  strange  l)oy  who  had  come  thus 
suddenly  into  their  midst.  The  furtive,  sinister 
glances  of  their  Avicked  black  eyes  had  something 
uncanny  in  them,  which  made  Bol)  i'eel  more  nn- 
comfbrtablt'  than  ever.  He  took  a  seat  upon  a 
stone  in  front  of  the  house,  on  one  side  of  the 
door-way,  and  looked  all  around.  The  mountains 
arose  there,  rising  first  gently  in  an  easy  acclivity, 
and  then  sweej)ing  up  with  a  greater  incline. 
Their  sides,  and  oven  their  sununits,  were  here  all 
covered  with  forests.  On  the  left  he  could  see 
the  bridge  over  which  the  road  passed —  the  road 


ESCAl'K    fOXTKMPLATKI). 


89 


that  led  to  safct3\  Could  he  but  escape  for  a  few 
moments  from  tlie  eyes  of  his  jailors,  he  might 
be  saved.  And  why  not?  Two  women,  and  some 
dirty  children  —  why  should  he  care  for  such 
guards  as  these  ?  One  rush,  one  leap,  and  he 
would  be  free.  Willingly  would  he  walk  all  the 
way  to  Halerno.  Anything  would  be  welcome 
after  such  a  captivity  as  this. 

JJut  Bob  was  doomed  to  disappointment ;  for 
just  as  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  fly,  just  as  ho 
was  looking  all  around  to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear, 
he  saw,  to  his  deep  distress,  the  two  brigands  ap- 
proaching from  the  outhouse.  They  were  carrying 
something  whii'h,  on  nearer  approach,  turned  out 
to  be  a  sheep,  which  they  had  just  killed.  Of 
course  all  thoughts  of  flight  now  dei)arted,  and 
Bob  could  only  deplore  his  own  stupidity  in  allow- 
ing that  one  chance  of  escape  to  pass  away. 

After  this  they  began  to  boil  portions  of  the 
sheep  in  a  pot ;  and  soon  the  savory  odor  of  a  stew 
filled  the  room,  and  came  to  Bob's  nostrils.  As  he 
was  half  starving,  the  delicious  odor  excited  the 
iitmost  longing  to  taste  it,  and  he  at  once  began  to 
feel  rather  satisfied  that  he  had  not  fled.  He  felt 
that  iv  flight  after  dinner  would  be  far  better.  In 
due  time  the  dinner  was  ready.  It  was  a  stow, — 
mutton,  with  vegetables,  cooked  deliciously,  —  and 
Bob's  hunger  was  so  great  that  if  it  had  been 
worse  cooked  it  would  have  been  a  banquet.  He 
had  no  fears  of  poison,  no  suspicions  of  drugging, 


90 


AMONG   THE   BRinANDS. 


for  the  whole  liunily  prepared  to  partake  of  tlio 
repast — tlio  two  hri/^ands,  tlie  old  hag,  the  slat- 
ternly woman,  und  the  dirty  children.  The  stew 
was  poured  out  into  a  huge  wooden  [)latter;  they 
used  no  plates,  but  dipped  with  their  h'ngers.  The 
ight 


sigiit  awaivenea  a  little  <iisgust  m  liou  ;  but  lie  waa 
too  hungry  to  be  squeamish,  and  he  succeeded  in 
picking  out  various  morsels  which  had  not  been 
touched  by  the  dirty  hands  of  his  companions. 

During  the  re])ast  ]>ob  noticed  that  they  all 
kept  looking,  from  time  to  time,  at  him,  and  their 
furtive  glances  met  his  eyes  whenever  he  turned 
them.  The  old  woman  sometimes  seemed  to 
devour  him  with  a  greedy,  hungry  sort  of  gaze, 
that  was  very  horrible.  It  was  an  ogrish  look, 
and  Uob's  appetite  was  somewhat  checked  by  the 
horror  that  he  found  in  her  eyes,  and  he  waa 
unable  to  have  that  free  play  M'ith  the  rejjast 
which  ho  might  otherwise  have  had. 

After  the  repast  Bob  once  more  went  outside, 
hoping  now  to  have  the  opportunity  which  he  had 
missed  before.  The  dirty  children  went  outside 
too.  The  two  brigands  followed,  and  occupied 
themselves  with  various  employments.  Escape 
from  such  surroundings  as  these  was  impossible. 
At  length  one  of  the  brigands  mounted  the  ass, 
and  rode  away  down  the  road  by  which  he  had 
come.  This  circumstance  seemed  suspicious  to 
Bob  at  first,  but  afterwards  he  thought  that  per- 
haps he  had  gone  to  Salerno  to  get  the  ransom. 


IMIMMSONMKNT. 


91 


Alter  this,  (larknoss  caiuo  on  so  suddenly  that  ho 
was  amazed.  Ih;  had  ah'eady  noticed  that  tho 
twih^^ht  in  Italy  was  very  much  less  than  that  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  at  home,  itut  had 
never  been  so  impressed  by  it  as  now.  There 
seemed  but  a  minute  between  day  and  night.  It 
was  (piite  bright,  and  then  in  a  wonderl'ully  short 
time  it  became  dark. 

Upon  this  they  all  entered  the  house.  Bob  h;id 
to  go  with  the  rest.  The  room  was  feebly  il- 
luminated by  a  small  oil  lamp.  15ob  noticed  that 
they  liistened  the  door  with  a  huge  chain.  Tho 
fastening  of  that  door  was  ominous  to  him,  and 
the  clanking  of  that  chain  smote  him  to  the 
heart,  and  echoed  drearily  within  his  soul.  Jt 
seemed  to  him  now  like  real  imprisonment,  shut 
in  here  with  chains  and  bars,  within  this  stone 
prison. 

Soon  they  all  prepared  to  retire  ;  and  the  brigand 
wdio  had  tirst  met  I)ol)  beckoned  to  him,  and 
taking  tho  lamp,  climbed  the  ladder  to  the  upper 
story.  Bob  followed  him.  The  upper  story  was 
about  eighteen  feet  above  the  lower  one.  On 
reaching  it.  Bob  saw  that  it  was  all  one  apartment. 
There  was  no  bed  here,  or  bedding,  or  furniture 
of  any  descrij.tit'it  whatever.  Sheep-skins  hung 
from  the  raft>  I'S,  and  dried  mutton,  and  some 
vegetables.  In  one  corner  was  a  pile  of  straw. 
To  this  tho  brigaiid  pointed,  and  Bob  went  over 
there,     lie  understood   that  he  was   to   ])ass    the 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


t 


1.0 


u 


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1^    12.2 


1^  illllM 


1.8 


11-25  IIIIII.4    IIIIII.6 


Vi 


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7 


V 


Photogiaphic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


fd 


iV 


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^^^ 


<* 
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6^ 


•^ 


«!• 


92 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


night  on  this  pile  of  straw.  Once  more  Bob  looked 
all  around  as  he  stciod  there  by  tiie  straw.  He 
saw  the  farther  end  of  the  room  in  dark  shadows; 
he  saw  the  articles  hanging  from  the  rafters. 
He  noticed,  also,  that  there  were  two  windows, 
one  in  front  and  the  other  in  the  rear.  In  these 
windows  there  were  no  sashes.  They  were  open 
to  the  night  air.  One  glance  sufficed  to  show 
him  this. 

The  brigand  now  said  something  which  Bob 
supposed  to  mean  good  nigiit,  so  he  very  civilly 
said  the  same  in  English.  The  brigand  grinned, 
and  then  descended  the  ladder,  taking  the  lamp 
with  him. 

On  his  departure,  Bob's  first  act  was  to  take  off 
his  boots.  He  then  felt  his  way  along  the  wall 
to  the  front  window,  for  it  was  so  intensely  dark 
inside  and  outside,  that  not  a  thing  was  visi- 
ble. Reaching  the  window,  he  put  his  head  out 
and  looked  down.  He  could  see  nothing.  All 
was  the  very  blackness  of  darkness.  He  looked 
up  to  the  sky.  All  there  was  blackness  also  and 
darkness.  Then  he  looked  down  again.  K  he 
had  only  some  means  of  getting  down,  he  could 
venture  the  descent;  but  he  had  nothing.  There 
were  no  sheets  here  for  him  to  tie  together ;  he 
could  not  make  a  rope  out  of  that  straw  strong 
enough  to  bear  his  weight.  To  jump  down  was 
not  to  be  thought  of,  fur  he  knew  very  well  that 


DESPAIR   OF    BOB. 


93 


at  least    twenty   feet    separated    l\im   from    the 
ground. 

He  turned  away  from  the  window  in  despair, 
and  groping  his  way  back  to  his  rude  bed,  he  sat 
upon  the  straw,  and  gave  himself  up  to  his  gloomy 
and  despondent  thoughts. 


94 


AMONG   THE  BRIGANDS. 


CH AFTER  VIII. 

The  ivrn-out  Captive.  —  Lis;ht  Slumbers.  —  Fearful  Wa- 
kcniiti^.  —  The  stealtliy  Step.  —  The  overinastcrini^  Hor- 
ror. —  Tlie  lone  Boy  confronted  by  his  Enemy.  —  The 
hungry  Eyes.  —  Is  it  real.,  or  a  A'ightniare  f  —  The  su- 
preme Moment. 


Wkf^X^^  darkness  of  tlie  night  and  the  impossi- 

fbility  of  escapo  filled  Bob  with  the  most 
gloomy  and  distressing  thoughts,  which  at 
first  quite  overcame  him.  But  at  length  other 
thoughts  came,  which  were  of  a  less  distressing 
character.  His  mind  once  more  reverted  to  the 
idea  that  he  was  held  for  r.ansom,  and  that  for  the 
present,  at  least,  he  was  in  safety ;  and  not  only 
BO,  but  well  cared  fi)r.  These  people  certainly 
had  given  him  of  their  best.  They  had  made  him 
share  at  the  common  meal,  and  though  this  bed  of 
straw  was  not  very  elegant,  it  was  at  least  com- 
fortable, and  was  no  worse  than  they  themselves 
used  to  sleep  upon. 

He  flung  himself  down  upon  the  straw,  and 
found  that  it  was  a  soft  and  a  refreshing  couch. 
Far  better  was  this  fresh  straw  than  any  formal 
bed  could  have  been,  for  in  such  a  house  as  that,  a 


THE  WORN-OUT   CAPTIVE. 


95 


mattress  or  a  bed  would  certainly  have  been  some 
hideous  thing,  as  dirty,  as  greasy,  and  as  squalid 
as  the  people  of  the  house.  On  the  whole,  Bob 
was  pleased  v/ith  his  bed  of  straw,  and  with  its 
clean,  fresh  smell. 

Escape  being  thus  cut  ofiF  for  the  present,  Bob's 
frame  of  mind  grew  more  placid.  As  long  as  he 
entertained  the  idea  of  immediate  flight,  his  mind 
was  constantly  on  the  strain ;  but  now,  when  that 
idea  had  been  dismissed,  he  grew  calmer,  and 
thought  over  his  circumstances  with  more  deliber- 
ation. Ho  remembered  that  one  of  the  brigands 
had  already  gone  away,  and,  as  he  supposed,  to  Sa- 
lerno. If  80,  ho  would,  no  doul)t,  either  see  his 
friends,  or  at  least  hear  from  them,  some  time  on 
the  following  day. 

The  more  he  considered  his  situation,  the  more 
free  from  all  immediate  danger  did  it  seem,  and 
the  more  did  his  hopes  increase.  He  looked  for- 
ward with  eager  hope  to  the  following  day.  That 
would,  without  doubt,  bring  him  news  of  iiis  friends, 
or,  perhaps,  restore  him  to  liberty.  Under  the 
pleasant  influence  of  thoughts  like  these,  his  mind 
grew  more  calm  and  cheerful  every  moment,  and 
passed  into  a  state  of  tranquil  contentment.  Be- 
sides,  he  was  tired,  and  his  weariness  brought  on 
drowsiness.  As  lo.>g  as  his  excitement  lastCvI,  ha 
could  not  feel  the  drowsiness  ;  but  now,  as  calm- 
ness returned,  the  weariness  and  sleepiness  be- 
came stronger,  and  by  degrees  overpowered  him. 


96 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDG. 


Gradually  the  thoughts  of  his  mind  became  in- 
termingled with  the  fancies  of  dreams,  and  blended 
the  realities  around  him  with  things  at  a  distance. 
All  was  still,  outside  and  inside.  No  sound  what- 
ever arose  from  below.  The  fsimily  seemed  all 
asleep.  At  last  Bob  dozed  off  also,  and  passed 
into  the  land  of  dreams. 

His  sleep  was  not  heavy.  Many  things  con- 
spired to  keep  his  senses  somewhat  on  the  alert 
even  in  that  slumber  of  his,  and  he  was  in  that 
condition  which  is  called  sleeping  witli  one  eye 
open.  The  fact  is,  the  extraordinary  excitement 
of  his  donkey  ride,  and  especially  of  his  last  ad- 
venture in  thus  falling  into  captivity,  had  so  roused 
his  faculties,  so  affected  his  nerves,  and  so  sharp- 
ened his  senses,  that  even  in  his  sleep  there  still 
predominated  the  thoughts  and  the  purposes  of  his 
waking  hours. 

In  this  state  he  remained  for  some  time,  sleeping, 
yet  vigilant,  the  body  gaining  rest  and  refresh- 
ment, but  the  wary  soul  on  the  alert,  as  though  to 
guard  against  danger. 

How  long  this  sleep  continued,  whether  min- 
utes or  hours,  Bob  could  never  afterwards  remem- 
ber ;  but  with  a  sudden  shock  through  all  his 
nerves,  he  opened  his  eyes.  He  was  lying,  as  he 
had  flung  himself  on  the  straw,  on  his  back,  with 
his  head  elevated  against  a  bundle  of  straw,  in 
such  a  way  that  he  could  see  the  length  of  the 
room. 


A    MYSTERIOUS   SOUND. 


97 


It  was  a  noise  that  ho  heard.  Ho  listened  breath- 
lessly, and  looked  with  all  his  eyes. 

Around  him  all  was  dark.  It  might  be  near 
morning,  or  it  might  be  early  night ;  ho  could  not 
tell.  All  was  still,  outside  and  insido  —  the  black- 
ness of  darkness  and  the  stillness  of  death. 

Yet  now,  in  the  midst  of  that  black  darkness 
and  that  deathly  stillness,  ho  became  aware  of  a 
sight   ind  a  sound. 

It  \  IS  a  low,  creaking  sound,  which  was  re- 
peated at  short  intervals,  accompanied  by  a  sliding, 
shuffling  noise.  It  sounded  in  the  direction  of  the 
opening  by  which  the  ladder  led  up  from  below. 
Looking  there,  he  saw  a  ray  of  light,  faint  and 
flickering,  yet  visible  enough  in  that  deep  dark- 
ness ;  and  as  the  grating,  shuffling  sounds  suc- 
ceeded one  another  at  regular  intervals,  even  so 
did  the  faint,  flickering  ray  of  light  grow  brighter 
and  brighter. 

As  Bob  looked  at  this  .and  took  it  all  in,  one 
thought  came  to  him  in  an  instant,  — 

Somebody  is  coming  up  the  ladder ! 

The  thought  went  through  him  with  a  pang. 

Somebo'^y  was  coming  up  the  ladder ! 

Who? 

What  for  ? 

That  mysterious  somebody  was  coming  slowly 
and  stealthily.  It  was  the  tread  of  one  who  wished 
to  come  unobserved. 

On  waking  out  of  sleep  suddenly,  the  mind  is 
7 


98 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


often  confused ;  but  wlien,  after  such  a  sudden 
awakening,  it  is  confronted  by  some  horrible  pres- 
encH',  tlie  shock  is  sometimes  too  great  to  be  en- 
dured. So  was  it  with  Bob  at  this  time.  His 
awaking  had  been  sudden ;  and  the  horror  that  ho 
found  in  the  object  that  now  presented  itself  was, 
that  the  shuffling  sound  that  arose  from  the  ladder 
was  the  step  of  Doom,  —  and  the  mysterious  vis- 
itant was  stealing  towards  him  to  make  him  its 
prey.  There  arose  within  him  an  awful  anti  )i- 
pation.  His  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  the  place 
where  the  light  was  shining ;  all  his  soul  awaited, 
in  dreadful  expectation,  the  appearance  of  the 
mysteriouj  visitor,  and  as  the  stealthy  step  drew 
nearer  and  nearer,  the  excitement  grew  stronger, 
and  more  painful,  and  more  racking. 

At  length  the  figure  began  to  emerge  above  the 
opem'ng. 

Bob's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  place. 

He  saw  first  the  light.  It  emerged  above  the 
opening  —  an  old  oil-lamp  held  in  a  bony,  grisly, 
skinny  hand.     Then  followed  an  arm. 

Bob's  excitement  was  now  terrible.  His  heart 
beat  with  wild  throbs.  His  whole  frame  seemed 
to  vibrate  under  that  pulsation  which  was  almost 
like  a  convulsion. 

The  arm  rose  higher!     Higher  still ! 

It  was  coming ! 

There  arose  a  matted  shock  of  greasy,  gray  hair. 
The  light  shone  down  upon  it  as  it  was  upheld  in 


THE    APPARITION. 


99 


the  bony  hand.  The  hair  came  np,  and  then,  grad- 
ually, a  face. 

That  face  was  pale  as  ashes  ;  it  was  lean  and 
shrivelled ;  the  cheeks  were  sunken  ;  the  choek, 
bones  projected  ;  and  a  million  wrinkles  were 
carved  upon  the  deep-seamed  brow  and  corru- 
gated cheeks.  Over  that  hideous  face  the  gray 
hair  wandered.  Bob's  blood  seemed  to  freeze 
within  his  veins.  The  old  fable  tells  of  the  Gor- 
gon, whose  face  inspired  such  horror  that  the 
beholder  stiffened  into  stone.  So  here.  Bob  be- 
held a  Gorgon  face.  Ho  felt  petrified  with  utter 
horror  1 

As  the  face  came  up  it  was  turned  towards  him. 
It  emerged  higiier  and  higher,  and  at  length 
stopped  about  a  foot  above  the  opening.  Here  it 
fixed  its  gaze  upon  Bob,  bending  itself  forward, 
and  holding  forth  the  light  as  far  as  possible,  so 
that  ii,  might  light  up  the  room,  and  peering 
through  the  gloom  so  as  to  see  where  Bob  was. 

There  seemed  something  indescribably  evil,  ma- 
lignant, and  cruel,  in  those  bleary  eyes  which  thus 
sought  Bob  out,  fastened  themselves  upon  him, 
and  seemed  to  devour  him  with  their  gaze.  There 
was  a  hideous  eagerness  in  her  look.  There  was 
a  horrible  fascination  about  it,  —  such  as  the  ser- 
pent exerts  over  the  bird.  And  as  the  bird,  while 
under  the  spell  of  the  serpent's  eye,  seems  to  loae 
all  power  of  fiight,  and  falls  a  victim  to  the  de- 
stroyer, so  here,  at  this  time,  Bob  felt  paralyzed  at 


100 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


that  basilisk  glance,  and  lost  all  power  of  motion. 
ITo  could  not  speak.  lie  tried  to  scream.  No  cry 
came.  Ho  was  dumb  with  horror.  ITo  was  like 
one  in  a  niglitmare  ;  but  this  was  a  waking 
night-maro,  and  not  the  fanciful  terrors  of  dream- 
land. 

But  the  horror  was  too  great  to  bo  ondurcd. 
lie  closed  his  eyes  tight,  and  thus  shut  out  the 
sight. 

But  though  ho  shut  out  tho  sight,  ho  could  not 
shut  out  sound  ;  and  soon  he  became  awiiTo  of 
':omething  which  brought  a  fresh  terror  over  his 
'oul. 

It  was  a  stealthy  step. 

It  was  advancing  towards  him. 

Slow,  cautious,  cunning,  yet  steady,  and  nearer 
and  still  nearer,  came  tho  awfiu  step  I  Bob  opened 
his  eyes,  to  assure  himself  once  more  of  the  worst. 
He  opened  them  by  a  resistless  impvilso. 

The  figure  was  now  half  way  between  the  open- 
ing and  the  bed.  The  old  hag  stood  now  fully  re- 
vealed. Her  bleary  eyes  were  fixed  on  Bob.  One 
hand  upheld  the  flickering  lamp,  and  in  tho  other 
was  a  sharp  weapon. 

Bob  closed  his  eyes  in  an  anguish  of  horror. 
He  was  dumb.  He  could  utter  no  cry.  Ho  could 
not  move.  The  blow  was  coming.  Tho  destroyer 
was  here,  yet  lie  could  not  make  one  motion  to 
ward  off  that  blow.  His  brain  whirled,  his  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating. 


T 


THE   SUPREME   MOMENT. 


101 


Tliero  was  a  terrible  moment  of  dumb,  motion- 
less, breathless  expectancy. 

The  old  woman  knelt  by  hia  side. 

She  put  the  lamp  on  the  floor. 

Then  she  reached  out  one  of  her  long,  lean, 
bony,  skinny,  shrivelled  hands,  and  took  Bob  by 
the  hair  of  his  head,  while  with  the  other  sho 
raised  iier  sharp  weapon. 


102 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


The  Cavalcade  in  Pv  uif,  —  Hopes  ami  Fears.  —  Theories 
about  the  lost  Boj-.  —  /I  new  Turn  to  Affairs.  —  Explana- 
tions. —  On  to  Sa/ernn.  —  hujuirics.  —  Baffled.  — Fresh 
Consternation  and  Despondency.  —  The  last  Hope. 

M^/^P^EANWHILE  the  party  on  donkeys  trotted 
along  the  road  after  Bob.  At  the  ex- 
clamation from  the  donkey  boy  they  had 
all  experienced  a  shock ;  but  soon  they  recovered 
from  it,  and  the  shock  only  served  as  ii  stimulus  to 
make  them  push  the  donkeys  onward  more  rapid- 
ly. They  rode  on  for  some  time  without  making 
any  remarks,  each  one  looking  eagerly  forward  to 
see  if  Bob  might  reappear  ;  but  he  had  vanished 
behind  a  turn  in  the  road,  and  as  they  advanced, 
there  were  otlier  turns  to  be  encountered,  and  so 
they  were  unable  to  see  him.  This  began  to  cre- 
ate uneasiness.  At  first  they  all  had  hoped  that 
Bob  would  be  able  to  stop  the  ass,  or  that  the  an- 
imal, after  indulging  his  paces  for  a  short  time, 
would  stop  of  his  own  accord ;  but  the  farther 
they  went,  the  more  they  became  convinced  that 
this  affair  had   something  serious  in  it. 

At  length  they  reached  that  long,  straight  piece 


f 


THP]    CAVALCADE   IN   PURSUIT. 


103 


of  road  ulroiuly  montionofl.  At  one  end  of  this 
was  a  rising  p^round  ;  as  thoy  asceiKhid  this  and 
reached  its  siirniiiit,  they  looked  ahead,  and  tliore, 
far  away  hetoro  them,  was  a  sin/^K?  rider.  They 
roco^niz(!d  Hob  at  once.  He  was  more  than  r'  mile 
away;  but  the  sight  of  him  filled  them  all  with 
joy,  and  they  at  once  stimulated  their  donl.'y.!  to 
greater  exertions.  In  spite  of  the  disfanco  that 
intervened,  they  all  shouted  as  loud  as  they  could  ; 
but  ol  course  the  distance  was  too  great,  and  tht;ir 
cries  were  lost  before  they  reached  nearly  :\s  far 
away  as  Bob.  In  a  short  time  he  turned  in  the 
road,  and  passed  out  of  sight. 

They  now  rode  on  for  a  long  time,  and  at  length 
c'lme  to  the  road  that  led  to  the  mountains,  up 
which  Bob  had  gone.  This  road  was  not  even  no- 
ticed by  them.  They  had  passed  other  roads  of 
the  same  kind,  which,  like  this  one,  led  to  the 
mountains,  and  attached  no  more  importance  to 
this  than  to  those.  In  the  minds  of  some  of  them, 
however,  these  side-roads  suggested  a  fenr^  that 
Bob's  ass  might  liave  turned  off  into  some  one  of 
them ;  but  of  course,  as  they  were  all  alike,  they 
could  not  conjecture  which  one  would  have  beea 
taken  by  the  runaway.  As  they  rode  on,  they 
still  looked  ahead.  At  every  turn  in  the  road  they 
still  expected  to  see  tiie  fugitive ;  and  it  was  not 
until  the  donkeys  themselves  gave  signs  of  fatigue, 
that  they  were  willing  to  slacken  their  pace.  But 
the    nature   of  these   donkeys  was,  after   all,  but 


104 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


mortal ;  like  other  mortal  things,  they  were  subject 
to  weakness  and  fatigue ;  and  as  they  were  now 
exhausted,  their  riders  were  compelled  to  indulge 
them  with  a  breathing  space,  and  so  they  slackened 
their  pace  to  a  walk. 

And  now  they  all  began  to  consider  the  prob- 
abilities of  Bob's  fortunes. 

"  I'm  afraid  something's  happened,"  said  Clive. 
"  Perhaps  he's  been  thrown." 

"  Thrown?  "  cried  Frank,  cheerily.  "  Why,  if  so, 
we  would  have  found  him  long  ago.  But  the  idea 
of  Bob  being  thrown  from  any  animal  that  ever 
lived  is  simply  absurd.  He'll  stick  to  that  donkey 
as  long  as  the  donkey  runs." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  David,  —  who  was  a 
very  thoughtful  and  observant  boy,  —  "  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  donkey  may  have  taken  some  of 
those  roads  that  go  oflf  to  the  mountains." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Frank.  "  Why  should  the  donkey 
take  the  trouble  to  do  anything  of  that  sort  ?  A 
runaway  animal  don't  generally  indulge  in  freaks 
of  that  kind.  ITo  generally  goes  it  blind,  and  runs 
straight  ahead  along  the  road  that  happens  to  be 
before  him." 

"  But  perhaps  he  lives  among  the  mountains," 
said  David,  "  and,  in  that  case,  he  would  merely 
be  running  hoF  o." 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Frank.  "  I  hold  that 
it  requires  some  thought  for  an  ordinary  donkey  to 
quit  the  high  road,  and  take  one  of  those  by-roads." 


HOPES   AND   FEARS. 


105 


"  Not  if  a  by-road  leads  to  his  home." 

"  But  how  could  his  home  be  there,"  objected 
Frank, "  when  we  found  him  away  down  there  near 
Poostum  ?  " 

"  Easily  enough,"  said  David.  "  I  dare  say  they 
were  going  home  at  tho  very  time  we  came  up 
with  them." 

"  I  wish  we  could  ask  the  boy  about  it,"  said 
Clivt  "  He  could  tell  us  just  what  we  want  to 
know." 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank ;  ''  but,  unfortunately,  we 
couldn't  understand  all  of  it." 

David  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  How  1  wish,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  I  had  stud- 
ied Italian  before  I  came  1  isut  from  this  time 
forth,  I'm  determined  not  to  rest  till  I've  learned 
the  language." 

Uncle  Moses  was  deeply  distressed  at  Bob's  dis- 
appearance. Ho  had  only  one  idea  in  his  mind. 
He  told  the  other  boys  what  it  was.  It  was  tho 
idea  of  brigands.  They  had  met  poor  Bob ;  they 
had  seized  him,  and  had  carried  him  off  to  their 
lurking-places  in  the  mountains.  Ev(  now  he 
was  in  captivity.  And  tho  heart  of  Uncle  Moses 
yearned  over  the  poor  prisoner.  He  expressed 
these  fears  in  a  few  words,  for  ho  was  too  agitated 
to  jjay  much. 

Clive  and  David  both  shook  their  heads  over 
this,  and  thought  there  was  something  in  it.  Both 
of  them  now  thouglit  tliat  Bob  might  have  been 


106 


AMONG    THE   BRIGAND8. 


carried  by  his  donkey  to  the  mountains ;  and,  if 
so,  his  capture  by  brigands  would  be  ahnost  cer- 
tain. To  them,  these  mountains  seemed  to  be  full 
of  them  ;  the  whole  population,  in  their  opinion, 
was  a  community  of  brigands. 

Clive  had  also  another  idea.  It  was  this.  Tiie 
driver  had  deserted  them  and  had  gone  off  vow- 
ing vengeance.  He  had  gone  to  the  mountains, 
and  returned  with  a  band  of  brigands  to  capture 
all  of  them.  They  had  met  Bob,  seized  him,  and 
taken  him  off. 

At  all  this  Frank  laugh.ed. 

"Pooh!"  said  he.  *'  I  don't  see  why  you  should  go 
out  of  your  way  to  torment  yourselves  about  noth- 
ing at  all.  It  all  seems  plain  enough  to  me.  The 
donkey  has  run  off,  and  intends  to  keep  running 
till  he  drops.  There's  a  long,  straight,  smooth  road 
before  him,  and  he'll  stick  to  timt  without  bother- 
ing his  head  about  by-roads  or  mountains.  And 
if  he's  obstinate  enough,  I  don't  see  why  he 
shouldn't  keep  on  running  till  he  gets  to  Halerno. 
And  it's  my  opinion,  if  we  don't  pick  him  up  on 
the  road,  we'll  find  him  at  Salerno  when  we  get 
there." 

"  0,  that's  all  very  well,"  said  Clive,  "  but  think 
how  certain  you  were  al)out  tlu;  driver —  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  galloping 
horses  and  rolling  wheels.  The  sound  came  from 
behind.  At  once  they  all  turned  their  heads. 
Emerging  from  behind  a  turn  in  the  road,  they  saw 


THE  drivp:r's  explanation. 


107 


two  horses  galloping  at  full  speed,  and  drawing  a 
carriage.  The  driver  was  whipping  the  horses 
furiously,  and  calling  and  shouting.  The  carriage 
was  empty.  In  a  moment  they  recognized  the 
truth.     It  was  their  carriage  and  their  driver. 

Tiiey  all  stood  still,  and  looked  in  surprise,  and 
the  carriage  rolled  swiftly  up.  The  driver  at  once 
stopped  the  horses,  and  jumped  to  the  ground. 
Then,  coming  to  the  boys,  he  burst  forth  into  a 
strain  of  the  most  profuse  and  vehement  apologies. 
He  implored  them  to  forgive  him,  and  began  to 
explain  the  cause  of  his  absence  from  the  place 
where  they  had  left  him. 

It  seems  that  he  found  this  place  an  inconvenient 
one,  and  had  driven  across  the  fields  for  about 
half  a  mile,  to  some  trees.  Here  he  had  taken  his 
horses  out,  and  allowed  them  to  feed.  He  him- 
self  lay  down  in  the  carriage,  and  took  a  siesta. 
He  overslept  himself  On  awaking,  he  was  horri- 
fied to  find  how  much  time  had  passed,  and  at 
once  proceeded  to  search  for  the  horses.  But 
during  his  sleep  they  had  both  wandered  off,  and 
could  not  be  found  until  after  a  long  search. 
When  at  length  lie  was  ready,  and  had  driven 
back,  he  found  to  his  horror  that  they  were  not 
there.  Thinking  that  they  were  still  among  the 
ruins,  he  had  gone  over  the  whole  place,  which 
took  up  still  more  time.  At  last  he  saw  that  they 
must  have  left.  He  at  once  drove  off.  Knowing 
that  they  were  on  foot,  he  expected  every  minute 


108 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


to  catch  sight  of  them.  He  drove  on  for  miles 
without  seeing  any  trace  of  them,  and  at  length 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  had,  perhaps, 
found  the  carriage  of  some  other  visitors,  and  had 
obtained  seats  in  that.  Ho  knew  that  they  must 
have  gone,  and  could  only  account  in  that  way  for 
their  rapid  progress. 

This  explanation  of  the  driver  was  perfectly 
satisfactory  to  them  all,  and  their  joy  at  getting 
the  carriage  again  was  so  great  that  they  excused 
his  unfortunate  slumbers.  The  driver  also,  on  his 
part,  haU  now  forgotten  all  about  his  sulks,  and 
was  the  same  genial  and  companionable  soul  as 
before.  On  learning  about  Bob's  mishap,  he  at 
once  assured  them  that  the  donkey  must  have  run 
along  the  road,  and  that  they  would  undoubtedly 
soon  catch  up  with  him.  So  the  whole  party  got 
into  the  carriage,  the  driver  whipped  up  the 
horses,  and  away  they  went  towards  Salerno. 

Mile  after  mile  was  traversed. 

Still  there  were  no  signs  of  Bob. 

"  Something's  happened,"  said  Clive. 

"  He's  been  carried  to  the  mountains,"  said  Da- 
vid. 

"  It's  the  brigands  I  "  groaned  Uncle  Moses. 

"  0,  it's  all  right,"  said  Frank,  confidently. 
"  That  donkey's  a  regular  race-horse.  We'll  find 
him  at  Salerno." 

At  length  they  reached  Salerno.  They  drove 
lip  to  the  hotel. 


THE   LAST   HOPE. 


109 


No  signs  of  Bob  ! 

Hurrying  in,  tlicj  made  inquiries,  and  found 
that  he  had  not  come.  This  iilled  them  all  with 
the  greatest  concern  ;  and  the  driver,  and  the  land- 
lord, and  all  others  who  heard  of  it,  asserted  that 
he  must  have  been  carried  to  the  mountains.  It 
was  now  dark.  Nothing  more  could  be  done  ;  and 
so  they  could  only  resolve  to  drive  back  on  the 
following  day,  and  make  a  more  careful  search 
after  the  lost  boy. 


110 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  X. 


The  captive  Boy  and  his  grisly  Visitant.  —  The  Hand  on  his 
Head.— Denouement.  —  The  Brigand  Family.  —  The  old 
Crone.  —  The  Robber  Wife.  —  The  Brigand  Children.  —A 
Revolution  of  Feeling.  —  The  main  Road.  —  The  Carriage. 
—  In  Search  of  Bob. 

ife^ARALYZED  with  terror,  dmnb  with  horror, 
Bob  lay  motioness  and  ahnost  breathless  ; 
and  the  grisly  old  hag  reached  out  her 
long,  lean,  thin,  bony,  withered,  shrivelled  hand, 
and  took  his  hair,  while  with  the  other  hand  she 
raised  her  sharp  weapon. 

She  took  his  hair  very  ligiitly  and  tenderly  ;  so 
lightly,  indeed,  that  Bob  was  just  conscious  of  her 
touch;  and  though  he  expected  that  he  would  bo 
torn  from  his  bed  and  struck  dead  the  next  instant, 
yet  this  fate  was  delayed. 

She  took  his  hair  then  in  her  hand  very  gently 
and  tenderly,  and  in  her  other  hand  she  raised  the 
sharp  weapon. 

Now,  the  sharp  weapon  was  a  pair  of  sheep- 
shears. 

These  shears  she  held  forward,  and  with  them 


THE   SHORN   LOCK. 


Ill 


she  snipped  off,  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  a  lock  of 
Bob's  hair. 

She  pressed  the  lock  of  hair  to  her  thin  lips, 
looked  at  it  steadfastly  for  some  time,  pressed  it 
once  more  to  her  lips,  and  then  put  it  in  the  folds  of 
her  dress. 

Then  kneeling  by  Bob's  side,  she  looked  at  him 
long  and  earnestly.  She  bent  over  him,  and  looked 
down  upon  him.  She  laid  the  shears  upon  the 
floor,  clasped  her  withered  hands  together,  and 
gazed  upon  the  boy.  He  lay  still.  His  eyesv  ere 
closed  ;  but  the  delay  of  his  fate  and  the  snip  of 
the  shears  in  his  hair  had  roused  him  somewhat 
from  his  abyss  of  terror.  He  opened  his  eyes 
wide  enough  to  see  what  was  gi.^ng  en.  He  could 
not  see  the  old  woman's  face,  but  he  saw  her 
kneeling,  and  he  saw  her  thin  hands  clasped  before 
her,  like  one  in  prayer,  and  tremulous. 

The  old  woman  bent  over  him ;  and  if  Bob  could 
have  seen  her  face  he  would  have  known  that  this 
old  creature  was  an  object  of  any  other  feeling 
rather  than  fear.  Pale  it  was,  that  lace  that  was 
over  him,  and  wrinkled,  and  emaciated ;  but  there 
was  upon  it  a  softened  expression  —  an  expres- 
sion of  yearning  and  of  longing.  That  which  at  a 
distance  had  seemed  to  his  frightened  fancy  a 
hungry,  ghoulish  look,  was  now  nothing  more  than 
the  earnest,  tixed  gaze  of  a  love  that  longed  to  be 
satisfied  —  a  gaze  like  that  of  a  bereaved  mother 
who  sees   some  one  who  reminds  her  of  her  lost 


112 


AMONG  THE  BRIGANDS. 


boy,  and  looks  at  him  with  a  look  of  unutterable 
yearning.  So,  now,  it  was  with  this  poor  old  de- 
crepit creature.  Perhaps  in  her  past  life  some 
son  had  been  torn  from  her,  of  whom  Bob  re- 
minded her,  and  she  had  come  now  to  feast  herself 
with  his  face,  which  reminded  her  of  her  lost  boy, 
to  take  a  lock  of  his  hair,  to  bow  down  over  him  in 
speechless  emotion.  Here,  then,  she  knelt,  her 
poor  hands  clasping  each  other  tremulously,  her 
aged  breast  heaving  with  repressed  sighs,  while 
from  her  weak  eyes  there  fell  tears  which  dropped 
upon  the  face  of  the  boy. 

Those  tears  had  a  wonderful  eflfect. 

As  Bob's  half-opened  eyes  saw  the  old  woman's 
attitude,  his  grisly  terror  left  him;  his  heart  re- 
gained its  ordinary  pulsation;  the  tremendgus 
pressure  that  had  been  upon  his  soul  was  re- 
moved ;  warm,  and  fresh,  and  free,  his  young  blood 
sped  through  his  veins,  and  all  his  frame  was 
quickened  to  a  bounding  life  and  vigor.  By  the 
force  of  this  reaction  he  was  roused  from  his  stony 
lethargy,  his  paralysis  of  horror,  and  his  presence 
of  mind  was  restored.  Then  there  came  those 
tears  which  fell  upon  his  face.  This  completed 
the  recovery  of  his  self-command.  It  did  more. 
It  assured  him  that  he  was  an  object,  not  of  mur- 
derous fury,  but  of  tender  love,  and  that  the  one 
whom  he  had  feared  had  come,  not  with  purposes 
of  cruelty,  but  with  yearnings  of  aft'ection.  Why 
this  should  be  he  knew  not;  he  was  content  to 


EFFECTS  OF   THE  VISIT. 


113 


know  that  it  was  so ;  and  in  this  knowledge  all 
fear  died  out.  But  even  now  he  felt  somewhat 
embarrassed,  for  the  old  woman  was  evidently 
only  giving-  way  to  her  emotion  because  she 
believed  him  tt)  be  asleej) ;  and  thus  he  was  an  un- 
willing witness  of  feelings  which  she  supposed  to 
bo  seen  by  none.  In  this  there  seemed  to  bo 
something  dishonorable,  and  he  wished  the  scene 
to  end.  He  chose  to  do  so  therefore  by  making  a 
few  movements  Avitliout  opening  his  eyes  ;  that  is, 
he  changed  his  position  several  times,  turned  him- 
self over  and  back  again,  and  thus  gave  signs  of 
waking.  Upon  this  the  old  woman  silently  took 
her  lamp  and  shears,  and  left  the  apartment  by  the 
way  she  had  come. 

So  ended  the  adventure. 

The  effect  produced  upon  Bob  was  a  varied  one. 
He  still  felt  the  consequences  of  that  horror  into 
which  he  had  fallen,  that  spasm  and  convulsion  of 
terror  which  had  seemed  to  turn  him  to  stone,  yet 
the  relief  that  had  been  found  was  inexpressibly 
sweet.  In  spite  of  the  pain  which  still  lingered 
about  his  heart,  there  came  a  calmer  and  happier 
frame  of  mind ;  the  pain  itself  also  gradually  died 
out,  and  its  only  result  was  a  general  languor.  So 
commonplace  a  termination  to  what  seemed  a 
terrible  event  made  his  whole  situation  and  his 
other  prospects  seem  commonplace,  and  he  even 
began  to  think  that  his  captors  might  turn  OuG  to 
be  as  commonplace  as  the  old  woman. 
8 


114 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Ho  foil  again  into  a  (loop  sloop,  and  did  not 
wake  till  it  was  broad  day.  On  dosconding,  tho 
people  all  rospecti'uUy  bade  him  good  morning. 
Breakfast  was  ready,  eonsi sting  of  black  broad, 
stew,  and  some  collbe.  Outside,  the  view  was 
superb  ;  tho  rising  sun  had  not  yet  ascended  high 
enough  to  shine  down  into  the  valley,  but  the 
glowing  heavens,  and  the  shadows  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  light  green  of  the  little  space  near- 
est, with  the  darker  green  of  tho  forests  that 
clothed  the  mountain-sides,  all  made  the  spectacle 
a  memorable  one. 

Bob's  whole  state  of  mind  was  more  healthy,  and 
cheerful,  and  hopeful  than  it  had  boon.  Every- 
thing appeared  bright  and  favorable.  The  old 
woman,  as  bo  looked  at  her  this  morning,  did  not 
seem  to  be  at  all  repulsive.  Her  face  was  shriv- 
elled, it  is  true,  and  her  eyes  were  weak ;  but  she 
looked  gentle  and  mild,  and  treated  him  with  very 
great  favor  and  attention.  Tho  slatternly  woman 
did  not  seem  worse  than  any  other  Italian  peasant 
woman.  Tho  children  were  dirty,  no  doubt ;  in  fact, 
very  dirty  ;  but  then  they  wore  brown,  and  healthy, 
and  merry,  not  inclined  to  mischief,  and  quite 
respectful  to  him.  I*^  short.  Bob  found  himself 
surveying  his  situation  and  its  surroundings  with 
much  complacency,  and  he  began  to  feel  that  he 
had  misjudged  these  people  altogether  the  night 
before. 

But  other  things  were  yet  in  store  which  were 


THE  BRIGANDS. 


115 


to  redeem  still  more  the  character  of  these  people. 
He  was  standing  outside  the  house  after  breakfast, 
when,  to  his  surprise,  he  saw  the  second  "  brigand  " 
approach.  He  knew  that  he  had  not  had  time  to  go 
to  Salerno  and  return  ;  so  he  saw  that  he  could  not 
have  been  to  Salerno  at  all.  He  seemed  to  Bob  to 
be  going  there  now,  for  he  was  mounted  on  a 
donkey,  and  led  another  by  the  bridle.  The  one 
which  he  led  was  no  other  than  the  ass  which  had 
carried  Bob  to  this  place. 

Bob's  only  thought  at  seeing  this  was,  that  the 
"  brigand  "  was  now  setting  forth  for  Salerno,  and 
was  about  to  take  the  donkey  with  him,  either  to 
sell  it,  or  to  return  it  to  the  owner,  and  get  a 
reward.  But  this  idea  was  not  left  long  in  his 
mind. 

The  first  "  brigand,"  came  out,  and  the  two  men 
talked  to  one  another,  after  which  they  turned  to 
Bob,  and  the  first  brigand  explained  to  him  that 
he  was  to  mount  the  donkey.  He  pointed  to  the 
animal,  smiled,  waved  his  hand  towards  the  road 
by  which  Bob  had  come,  and  uttered  the  word 
"  Salerno." 

Bob's  heart  gave  a  wild  leap ;  he  could  scarcely 
believe  what  he  heard  ;  but  the  faces  of  the  two 
men  were  smiling,  and  they  continued  to  nod,  and 
gesticulate,  and  repeat  the  word  "  Salerno."  They 
looked  like  two  beaevolent  farmers,  and  Bob  won- 
dered how  he  could  ever  have  seen  anything  ma- 
lignant in  their  very  good  natured  faces. 


116 


AMONG   THE  BIIIOANDS. 


Of  course  thoro  was  riothinpj  to  do  now  but  to 
hurry  away  to  his  friends.  Yot  Bob  was  not 
willing  to  take  too  abrupt  a  leave.  He  remem- 
bered the  old  woman,  and  thought  with  a  soitencd 
heart  about  her  emotion.  Ho  wont  back  into  tho 
house,  and  shook  hands  with  her  for  good  by.  Ho 
even  knew  enough  Italian  to  say,  "  Addio."  The 
old  creature  was  much  softened,  and  burst  into 
tears.  Bob  gave  her  one  of  his  cuft-buttons  as  a 
souvenir,  for  ho  had  notliing  else  to  give,  and 
the  cufl'-button  was  an  uncommonly  elaborate  affair ; 
and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  the  old 
woman  took  it  as  though  it  was  of  inestimable 
value.  Ho  then  went  around  among  them  all, 
shook  hands  with  all  of  them,  from  the  slatternly 
woman  down  to  tho  smallest  of  the  dirty  children, 
and  gave  each  one  of  them  something — to  tho 
woman,  a  pencil  case ;  to  one  child,  hia  pocket 
knife  ;  to  another,  a  watch  key ;  to  a  third,  a  shirt 
stud ;  to  a  fourth,  a  memorandum  book ;  and  to  the 
fifth,  a  handkerchief. 

"  Brigand  "  number  two  was  going  to  accompany 
him,  and  it  was  now  evident  to  Bol)  that  the  delay 
which  had  taken  place  in  his  restoration  to  his 
friends  was  probably  owing  to  the  fact  that  they 
had  to  wait  to  procure  bridles,  or  another  donkey. 
It  only  remained  for  him  now  to  bid  good  by  to 
"  brigand  "  number  one,  which  he  did  with  great 
earnestness,  and  cordiality,  and  fervor ;  presenting 
him  at  the  same  time  witii  his  neck-tie,  a  very 


DEPARTURE   OF    BOB. 


117 


brilliant  pioco  of  satin,  wliicli  the  Italian  received 
with  a  great  flourisli,  and  profuse  expressions  of 
thankfulness.  Bob  iiad  several  times  regretted 
his  ignorance  of  the  Italian  language  since  his 
arrival  in  the  country,  hut  never  had  his  r(  grets 
been  more  sincere  than  on  this  occasion.  Had  ho 
been  able  to  speak  Italian  he  would  have  made  a 
speech  then  and  there,  and  have  invited  them  all, 
from  the  old  woman  down  to  the  smallest  child,  to 
come  and  visit  him  and  his  friends  either  at 
Salerno,  or  at  Naples,  or  in  far-ofi"  America.  But 
alas !  Bob's  tongue  was  tied,  and  so  the  invitation 
remained  unuttored.  He  did  what  hv  could,  how- 
ever, and  utterly  exhausted  the  whole  language 
of  signs  in  the  attempt  to  express  to  them  his 
thanks,  and  his  good  wishes  for  their  happiness. 
The  simple  people  seemed  to  comprehend  him,  for 
they  were  by  no  means  dull,  and  gesticulated  in 
return  many  things  which  seemed  to  convey  the 
same  meaning ;  and  when  at  last  Bob  rode  away, 
the  humble  inhabitautb  watched  him  until  he  passed 
out  of  sight. 


118 


AMONG  THE  BEIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


The  Return,  —  The  tender  Adieus.  —  Back  to  Salerno.  —  On 
to  Castellamare.  —  A  pleasant  Scene. — An  unpleasant 
Discovery.  —  David  among  the  Missing.  —  Woes  of  Uncle 
Moses.  —  Deliberations  over  the  Situation.  —  Various 
Theories.  —  The  Vengeance  of  the  Enemy.  —  Back  to  Sor- 
rento in  Search  of  the  lost  One. 

ETURNING  to  the  main  road  with  his 
guide,  Bob  traversed  the  same  way  by 
whicli  his  donkey  had  carried  him  on  the 
preceding  day.  His  progress  now  was  very  dif- 
ferent. It  Avould  not  do  to  dasli  furiously  down 
the  narrow  and  steep  mountain  pathway  ;  so  they 
had  to  go  at  a  slow  pace,  until  they  reached  the 
plain.  Bob's  animal  also  had  changed.  He  was 
no  longer  the  fiery,  wild  ass  of  the  day  before, 
which  had  borne  him  helplessly  away  from  his 
friends,  but  a  tractable  animal,  with  sufficient 
spirit,  it  is  true,  yet  with  all  the  signs  of  subordi- 
nation and  obedience.  He  obeyed  the  slightest 
touch  of  the  bridle,  and  moved  along  after  the 
rider  in  front  of  him,  as  quietly  as  though  he  was 
the  most  patient  and  gentle  of  the  donkey  tribe. 
In  two  or  three  hours'  time  they  reached  the 


THE    RETURN. 


119 


main  road,  and  turning  to  tho  right,  rode  towards 
Salerno.  Thus  far  Bob  had  not  noticed  much  of 
his  surroundings,  but  now  his  eyes  gazed  most 
eagerly  upon  the  road  ahead  of  him,  for  he  ex- 
pected to  meet  his  friends.  H(3  rightly  supposed 
that  they  would  have  driven  to  Salerno  on  the 
preceding  day,  hoi)ing  to  find  him  there,  and  that 
they  would  drive  back  in  search  of  him  at  the 
earliest  dawn  of  another  day. 

Bob's  conjecture  turned  out  to  be  right.  He 
had  not  ridden  more  than  a  mile  when  he  saw  a 
carriage  approaching,  which  he  soon  recognized 
as  belonging  to  his  party.  In  it  were  his  friends, 
who  had  recognized  him  as  soon  as  they  had 
caught  sight  of  him,  and  whose  joy  at  meeting 
with  him  again,  and  amazement  at  the  sight  of  his 
companion,  knew  no  bounds.  The  carriage  stopped, 
and  the  boys  flung  themselves  out,  and  tore  Bob 
from  tliO  back  of  the  donkey,  and  hugged  him, 
and  hustled  him,  and  danced  about  him  in  their 
joy.  Uncio  Moses  was  not  so  quick  as  the  others, 
and  hold  back.  But  if  his  greeting  was  last,  it 
was  not  least  fervent,  as  Bob  well  knew  by  the 
moistened  eye,  the  ([uivcring  lip,  the;  tremulous 
voice,  and  the  convulsive  grasp  of  that  venerable 
relative. 

Then  and  there,  on  the  road,  Bob  had  to  satisfy 
the  hungry  curiosity  of  his  friends,  and  give  them 
some  sort  of  an  outline  of  his  adventures.  The 
particulars   he   reserved  until  a  future  occasion. 


120 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Bob's  account  of  his  friends  in  tlie  mountains  at 
once  roused  the  enthusiastic  interest  of  the  whole 
party  in  their  lavor,  and  they  all  proceeded  to 
shake  hands  with  the  Italian.  Nor  did  they  con- 
tent themselves  with  this,  for  on  the  spot  Uncle 
Moses  and  the  boys  made  up  a  handsome  purse, 
which  they  presented  to  him,  not  because  he  de- 
served it,  exactly,  but  partly  because  they  were 
so  rejoiced  at  finding  the  lost  boy,  and  partly  on 
account  of  Bob's  urgent  appeal  to  them.  For  now 
Bob's  sentiments  about  the  humble  people  in  the 
sequestered  valley  had  undergone  the  last  phase 
which  was  necessary  to  complete  a  perfect  revo- 
lution of  feeling ;  and  he  had  come  to  regard  them 
not  by  any  means  as  brigands, — far  from  it,  —  but 
rather  as  a  family  of  peaceful,  innocent,  harmless, 
affectionate,  quiet,  benevolent,  warm-hearted,  good- 
natured,  hospitable,  and  virtuous  peasants. 

The  Italian  received  the  gifts  with  a  series  of 
gesticulations,  by  which  he  seemed  to  be  invoking 
the  blessing  of  Heaven  upon  them,  and  vowing 
endless  gratitude  ;  and  after  the  boys  and  Uncle 
Moses  had  one  by  one  shaken  hands  and  bidden 
him  good  by,  he  still  stood  there,  smiling,  bowing, 
and  gesticulating ;  and  as  they  drove  away,  they 
saw  him  standing  motionless  in  the  road  till  they 
passed  out  of  sight. 

Bob's  adventures  had  not  been  without  some 
Berious  consequences,  for  the  strain  on  his  mind 
during  the  previous  day,  and  especially  the  horror 


ON   TO   CASTELLAMARB. 


121 


of  the  night,  combined  with  the  fatigues  to  which 
he  had  been  subjected,  had  been  somewhat  too 
much  for  him.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  the  first  ex- 
citement of  tlic  joyous  meeting  was  over,  a  reac- 
tion took  phice,  and  ho  complained  of  utter  weari- 
ness uikI  exhaustion.  As  Bob  was  a  boy  who 
never  complained  except  under  sore  pressure,  the 
boys  perceived  that  he  was  now  in  need  of  quiet 
and  repose,  and  therefore  tried  to  put  a  check 
upon  their  eager  curiosity.  On  reaching  Halerno, 
they  put  up  at  the  hotel  again,  and  gave  Bub  the 
opportunity  of  a  long  rest.  Had  it  not  been  for 
Bob's  adventure,  they  would  by  this  time  have 
been  ba-^k  in  Naples  ;  for  their  intention  had  been 
to  go  on  from  l^estum  without  sto})ping  ;  but  now 
they  were  forced  to  delay  somewhat.  Still  tliey 
were  anxious  to  resume  the  journey  back,  and  as 
Bob  seemed  refreshed  after  a  rest  and  a  good  re- 
past. Uncle  Moses  thought  they  had  better  set  out 
and  go  as  far  as  they  could  before  dark.  The  dri- 
ver mentioned  Castellamare  as  a  convenient  stoj)- 
ping-placo,  and  it  was  thereupon  decided  to  drive 
on  as  far  as  that  place,  and  pass  the  night  there. 

They  had  passed  through  Castellamare  before, 
when  on  their  way  to  Sorrento,  and  again,  whea 
returning  from  that  place,  on  their  way  to  Salerno, 
80  that  it  seemed  quite  familiar.  But  on  quitting 
the  carriage  and  looking  out  from  the  windows  of 
the  hotel,  they  were  surprised  to  find  how  much 
the  beauty  of  the  place  was  enhanced  by  this  new 


122 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


outlook.  Before,  they  looked  at  it  as  hasty  travel- 
lers, snatching  a  passing  glance  ;  but  now  they 
could  take  a  leisurely  survey.  Before  them  was  the 
Bay  of  Naples  ;  on  the  right,  the  city  with  its  sub- 
urbs, extending  far  along  the  shore  ;  on  the  left, 
the  isle  of  Capri ;  in  front,  the  shores  of  Baiic  ; 
wliile  in  the  roar  was  the  verdant  landscape,  with 
a  background  of  mountains,  over  which  reigned 
supreme  the  gigantic  form  of  Vesuvius,  from 
whose  summit  was  still  floating  tlie  wrathful  smoke 
cloud. 

It  was  decided  to  pass  the  night  here,  and  go 
on  to  Naples  early  on  the  following  day.  All  the 
party  were  tired,  and  went  to  rest  at  an  early 
hour.  The  night  was  calm,  and  beautiful,  and 
bright ;  and  as  they  wont  to  sleep,  they  were 
lulled  by  the  plash  of  the  waters  as  they  gently 
rippled  upon  the  pebbled  beach. 

Frank  arose  pretty  early  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, and  found  that  David  was  already  up,  and  had 
gone  forth.  The  others  were  still  asleep.  Frank 
thereupon  went  forth  for  a  walk,  and  one  by  one 
the  others  awaked  also.  They  had  ordered  break- 
fast at  an  early  hour,  and  they  were  to  start  im- 
mediately after.  When  Uncle  Moses  went  down 
stairs  he  found  breakfast  ready,  and  departed  to 
hunt  up  the  boys.  He  found  Frank,  and  Clive, 
and  Bob,  watching  the  driver  groom  the  horses. 

"  Boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  *'  breakfast's  ready." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  Frank ;  "  we'll  be  along." 


AN   UNPLEASANT   DISCOVERY. 


123 


Upon  this  Uncle  Moses  went  back,  and  after  a 
few  moments  Frank,  and  Clive,  and  Bob  entered. 

"  Where's  David  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Moses. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  Well,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  I  suppose  he'll  be 
along  ;  so  let's  sit  down  and  begin." 

They  all  sat  down. 

When  they  were  about  half  through  breakfast, 
Uncle  Moses  began  to  wonder  what  was  keeping 
David. 

"  Which  way  did  he  go,  boys  ?  "  ho  asked. 

"  I  didn't  see  him,"  said  Frank. 

"  I  didn't,"  said  Clive. 

«  Nor  I,"  said  Bob. 

"  He  was  up  before  I  was,"  said  Frank,  "  and 
had  gone  out.  I  didn't  see  him  at  all.  I  only  saw 
his  empty  bed,  and  found  his  clothes  gone.  I  dare 
say  he's  gone  off  on  a  walk." 

"  0,  he's  all  right,"  said  Bob. 

"  Yes,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  I  don't  doubt  it. 
He's  a  very  careful,  quiet  boy,  I  know  ;  but  he  is 
always  so  punctual,  that  it  seems  kind  o'  odd  for 
him  to  be  so  late." 

''  0,  I  dare  say  he's  misunderstood  about  the 
hour,"  said  Clive. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Uncle  Moses. 

The  boys  now  went  on  finishing  their  breakfast; 
but  Uncle  Moses  began  to  fidget  in  his  chair,  and 
look  around,  and  sigh,  and  gave  other  signs  of 
growing  uneasiness  of  mind.     Feeling  in  himself, 


124 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


as  he  did,  the  care  of  all  the  boys,  he  never  was 
altogether  free  from  anxiety ;  and  the  various  ad- 
ventures which  the  boys  had  encountered,  had  not, 
in  any  way,  tcndud  to  lessen  liis  uneasy  vifxilanco 
over  tliem,  Bob's  last  adventure,  in  particular, 
had  wrou^^lit  upon  him  most  painJ'idly,  so  that  he 
was  ten  times  more  careful  over  his  young  and 
somewhat  fiiglity  charges  than  he  had  been  before. 
The  absence  of  David  at  such  an  important  time 
seemed  unaccountable.  If  it  had  been  any  one  of 
the  others,  it  would  have  been  intelligible :  but  for 
David,  who  was  the  soul  of  order,  regularity,  and 
method,  to  fail  an  appointment,  was  something  so 
extraordinary,  that  he  could  not  but  feel  alarmed. 
Still  ho  restrained  himself,  for  he  felt  a  littk 
ashamed  of  his  fears ;  and  though  he  was  evident. 
ly  very  restless,  uneasy,  and  worried,  he  said  not, 
a  word  until  the  boys  had  finished  their  breakfast. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  said  Uncla 
Moses  at  last,  starting  from  his  chair  and  going  to 
the  window.  Standing  there,  he  looked  uneasily 
up  and  down  the  street,  and  then  returned  and 
looked  earnestly  at  the  boys. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,  at  all,"  he  re- 
peated. "  Did  you  say  you  didn't  see  him,  none 
of  you  ?     Didn't  you  see  him,  Clive  ?  "' 

"No,  sir,"  said  Clive.  "  When  1  waked,  all  the 
boys  were  up." 

"  Didn't  he  say  anythin  last  night  about  in- 
tendin  to  do  anythin  this  mornin?  " 


DAVID   AMONG   THE   MISSING. 


125 


"I  didn't  hear  him  say  anytliinp." 

"  0,  I'm  sure  he's  misunderstood  about  the  hour," 
said  Frank.  "  That's  it.  He's  off  on  a  walk.  1 
dare  say  lie's  found  some  old  ruin  ;  and  if  that's 
the  case,  he  won't  know  anything  about  time  at 
alh  Put  him  in  an  old  ruin,  and  he'd  let  all  the 
breakfasts  that  ever  were  cooked  wait  before  he'd 
hurry." 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  there's  somethin  in 
that  too.  David's  dreadful  fond  of  old  stones,  and 
old  bones,  and  tumble-down  edifices,  and  old  sticks 
an  weeds.  Why,  he's  all  the  time  collectin ;  an 
if  he  keeps  on,  his  baggage'll  become  uothin  else 
but  that." 

Pleased  with  this  thought,  which  brought  up 
before  his  mind  what  to  him  was  an  inexplicable 
peculiarity  of  David,  Uncle  Moses  drew  a  breath 
of  relief. 

"  Wal,"  said  he,  "  we'll  have  to  wait  patiently, 
till  David's  done  with  that  there  old  ruin ;  an 
meantime  I  think  PU  take  a  turn  an  see  if  I  can 
see  anythin  of  him." 

Upon  this  Uncle  Moses  went  out  of  the  room, 
and  down  to  the  street.  Reaching  the  street,  he 
walked  up  and  down  the  entire  length  of  the  town, 
looking  eagerly  in  every  direction,  peering  into 
the  doors  of  houses,  staring  into  space,  scanning 
groves  and  vineyards,  and  every  half  minute  tak- 
ing out  his  watch  and  looking  at  it.  At  the  end 
of  about  half  an  hour,  he  returned  more  troubled 


126 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


than  ever,  and  met  Frank,  Clive,  and  Bob  in  front 
of  the  hotel. 

"  I  can't  find  him  anywhere,"  said  he. 

Thus  far  the  boys  had  thought  nothing  of  Da- 
vid's disappearance  ;  but  the  deep  anxiety  of  Un- 
cle Moses  now  excited  their  alarm  ;  and  though, 
if  left  to  themselves,  they  would  have  seen  noth- 
ing to  fear  in  the  fact  of  David's  being  an  hour  or 
so  behind  time,  yet,  after  all,  they  began  to  see 
that,  in  one  like  David,  such  conduct  was  most  ex- 
traordinary ;  and  in  this  foreign  country,  of  whose 
ways  they  were  so  ignorant,  there  might  possibly 
be  danger  in  such  absence.  They  at  once  began 
to  comfort  Uncle  Moses ;  and  then  all  of  them  vol- 
unteered to  go  in  different  directions  and  see  if 
they  could  find  him.  Uncle  Moses  again  set  out, 
walking  up  tln^  road  in  the  direction  of  Sorrento ; 
Frank  went  down  the  road  ;  Clive  took  a  by-road 
that  led  towards  the  hills ;  while  Bob,  who  was 
rather  weak  yet,  and  not  capable  of  much  exer- 
tion, said  that  he  would  watch  from  the  window 
of  the  hotel,  and  be  at  home,  in  case  of  David's 
return,  to  explain  matters. 

In  this  way  they  began  their  search,  and  Bob 
wait'^vi  patiently  in  the  hotel.  After  about  an 
hour  Uncle  Moses  came  back.  On  finding  that 
David  had  not  returned,  he  looked  unspeakably 
distressed ;  and  when,  after  a  short  time  farther, 
both  Frank  and  Clive  returned  without  any  tidings 
of  the  fugitive,  he  began  to  look  quite  heart-broken. 


DELIBERATION   OVER   THE   SITUATION. 


127 


Then  tliey  talked  to  the  driver  about  it;  but 
the  driver  could  give  them  no  information  what- 
ever. They  sent  him  over  the  hotel  to  question 
all  the  people,  but  this  search  was  as  vain  as  the 
others  had  been.  There  was  no  one  in  the  hotel, 
from  the  big  landlord  down  to  the  scullion,  who 
could  tell  anything  at  all  about  David. 

By  the  time  all  these  examinations  and  searches 
had  been  made  it  was  after  ten  o'clock.  Breakfast 
had  been  served  at  seven,  and  seven  was  the  hour 
at  which  David  should  have  been  among  them. 
He  had  been  gone, therefore, more  than  three  hours. 

Even  the  boys  now  began  to  feel  uneasy.  Un- 
cle Moses  and  all  the  boys  began  to  rack  their 
brains  to  find  some  way  of  accounting  for  Da .  id's 
absence. 

"  Did  any  of  you  ever  hear  of  his  walking  in  his 
sleep?"  asked  Uncle  Moses,  in  an  agitated  voice. 

"  No,"  said  Bob,  "  never.  I  know  he  never  did 
such  a  thing." 

"  He  couldn't  have  taken  a  walk  anywheres," 
said  Uncle  Moses,  "  or  he'd  been  back  long  ago." 

"  0,  yes  ;  he  wouldn't  have  started  on  a  three 
hours'  walk,"  said  Clive. 

"  Perhaps  he's  tried  a  donkey  ride,  and  been 
run  away  with,  like  me,"  said  Bob. 

"0,  no,"  siiid  Frank,  "he  isn't  fond  of  riding; 
he'd  never  get  on  the  back  of  any  animal,  unless 
he  had  to." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  about  —  about  —  ?  " 


128 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


Uncle  Moses  hesitated  at  the  question  which  he 
was  about  to  ask. 

"  About  what,  Uncle  Moses  ?  "  asked  Clive. 

"  About  —  bathing  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Moses,  in  a 
faltering  voice. 

"  No,"  said  Clive. 

Uncle  !Moses  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  It  wonld  be  dreadful  dangerous,"  said  he. 

"But,  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Clive,  "  David  would 
never  think  of  such  a  thing.  lie  might  go  in  if 
all  of  us  fellows  went  in  too,  just  for  company ; 
but  ho  doesn't  care  enough  about  it  to  go  in  talone. 
The  fact  is,  he  doesn't  care  much  for  any  kind  of 
sports.     He's  too  fond  of  books." 

Uncle  Moses  sighed  heavily. 

"  I  wonder,'"  said  Bob,  "  if  any  of  those  Sorren- 
to fellows  have  been  about  hero,  and  seen  him." 

At  this  suggestion  every  one  of  them  started, 
and  stared  at  one  another. 

"  Sorrento  fellers  ?  "  repeated  Uncle  Moses. 
"  Do  you  think  there's  any  chance  ?  " 

"  0,  I  don't  know,"  said  Bob.  "  I  only  thought 
it  might  be  possible.  You  see  Dave  made  no  end 
of  a  row  there  about  that  tassel  that  he  took,  and 
you  know  how  we  had  to  run  for  it.  Well,  you 
know  Sorrento  isn't  very  far  from  here,  and  I  just 
thought  that  some  of  the  Sorrento  people  might 
have  seen  us  come  here  yesterday.  If  they  did, 
they  might  have  tried  to  pay  up  poor  old  Dave  for 
what  he  did  out  there." 


VARIOUS   THEORIES. 


129 


"  It  may  be  so,"  aaid  Uncle  Moses,  with  a  groan. 
"The  whole  population  were  ravin  mad,  an  we  had 
hard  enough  work  to  get  away." 

"  Well,"  sciid  Frank,  "it's  the  only  thing  that  can 
account  lor  Dave's  absence.  He  may  have  taken 
a  little  stroll  tliis  morning,  and  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  some  of  those  fellows.  Perhaps  they've 
been  watching  all  night  for  the  chance.  They 
would  watch,  not  only  all  night,  but  a  fortnight, 
for  the  sake  of  revenge.  There's  no  peoj^le  so  re- 
vengeful as  the  Italians.  Poor  Dave  !  What  can 
we  do  ?     I'll  go  and  ask  the  driver." 

Saying  this,  Frank  hurried  out  of  the  room  and 
down  stairs  to  talk  to  the  driver  about  it.  All  the 
others  followed.  On  suggesting  this  Sorrento  the- 
ory to  the  driver,  that  worthy  shook  his  head,  and 
thought  that  there  might  be  something  in  it.  Ho 
evidently  began  to  look  upon  David's  absence  aa 
Romething  very  serious,  and  his  seriousness  over 
it  only  added  to  the  anxiety  of  Uncle  Moses  and 
the  boys. 

"  If  this  is  so,  we  ought  to  drive  off  to  Sorrento 
at  once,"  said  Frank,  "  l)eforo  it  is  too  late.  If 
Dave  is  in  their  hands,  he  needs  us  now,  and  I 
only  wish  wo  had  thought  of  this  before." 

"  But  he  mayn't  be  there  at  all,"  said  Bob,  who 
generally  had  a  mind  of  his  own. 

"  Where  else  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  There's  no  need  for  all  of  us  to  go,"  said  Uncle 
9 


130 


AMONO    THE    IIRIGANDS. 


Moses.  "  I'll  go  alone,  and  you  boys  stay  here  till 
I  come  back.  But  I  don't  know,  either.  I'm  alVaid 
to  leave  you.  If  David's  got  into  trouble,  ]\o\v 
can  any  of  you  hope  to  escape  ?  No,  you  must  all 
come,  for  I  declare  I'm  afraid  to  trust  one  of  yon 
out  of  my  sight." 

"  But  some  of  us  ought  to  stay,"  said  Bob,  "  for 
Dave  may  turn  up  all  right,  and  hovv'll  he  know 
what's  become  of  us  ?  " 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  "  I'll  leave  word  for 
him  here  at  the  hotel." 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank,  "  that's  the  best  way.  None 
of  us  want  to  dawdle  our  lives  out  in  this  place 
all  day,  and  you  don't  want  to  leave  any  of  us  be- 
hind, Uncle  Moses  ;  so  if  we  all  go  together,  we'll 
all  be  satisfied." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  the  carriage  rolled 
out  of  Castellamare,  carrying  the  party  back  to 
Sorrento. 


A    CLOKIOUS   SCKNE. 


m 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Wakins^  of  David.  —  A  ^/orioiis  Scene.  —  A  Tempta- 
tion. —  David  embarks  upon  tlie  wide  wide  Sea.  —  ]  'oiith 
at  the  Prow  and  Pleasure  at  the  Helm.  —  A  darini^  Navii^a- 
tor.  —  A  baffled  and  confounded  Naiiii^ator.  — •  Lost  !  Lost ! 
Lost  !  —  Despair  of  David.  —  .-//  the  Mercy  of  Wind  and 
Sea.  —  The  Isle  of  the  Brigands.  —  IVie  Brigand  Chief. 


^f=^N  the  morning  of  tliat  day  David  had  waked 
'^Br  very  early,  feeUng  ref're.shtMl  with  his 
slumbers,  and  not  at  all  iiicliiicd  to  pro- 
long  them.  The  others  were  all  asleep,  and  the 
house  was  silent.  As  he  lay  he  eould  hear  the 
gentle  ripple  of  the  water  upon  the  beach,  and 
feel  the  sweet,  balmy  air  of  nuuiiing  as  it  fanned 
his  cheeks.  For  some  little  time  lie  lay  enjoying 
his  situation,  and  then  jumped  out  of  bed  and  went 
to  the  window. 

Immediately  in  front  of  him  lay  the  IJay  of 
Naples,  a  dark  blue  expanse,  with  its  border  of 
green  shores  and  white  cities,  overhung  by  a  sky 
whoso  hue  rivalled  that  of  the  sea  beneath.  The 
beauty  of  the  scene  was  so  exiiuisite  that  it  called 
him  forth,  and  unable  any  longer  to  remain  within 
doors,  he  dressed  himself  and  walked  out.     On  his 


132 


AMONG  THE   BRICxANDS. 


way  out  he  met  no  one,  for  all  were  still  asleep. 
He  had  to  unlock  the  door  to  let  himself  out,  and 
when  outside  he  saw  that  the  street  was  as 
deserted  as  the  interior  of  the  hotel. 

Standing-  at  the  door,  he  saw  the  eastern  sky  all 
ruddy  and  glowing.  The  sun  was  not  yet  up,  but 
these  hues  indicated  its  approacl),  and  aruiounced 
that  it  was  at  hand.  The  fertile  plains,  all  covered 
with  vineyards,  spread  afar,  extending  from  tho 
outskirts  of  the  town  to  the  slopes  of  the  moun- 
tains, which  in  the  distance  rose  up  grandly,  their 
sides  covered  with  groves,  and  resting  in  dark 
shadows.  There,  too,  was  Vesuvius,  as  ever,  mon- 
arch of  the  scene  ;  and  the  smoke  that  hung  over 
its  summit  stood  revealed  in  a  black  mass  against 
the  blue  sky. 

David  left  the  hotel,  and,  after  walking  a  few 
paces,  turned  his  steps  towards  the  sea-shore. 
Here  tho  attractions  were  greater  than  on  the 
land,  for  the  blue  expanse  of  water  spread  itself 
out  bcfoi-e  him,  encircled  by  shores  and  islands, 
and  all  the  congregated  glories  of  the  Bay  of 
Naples  were  there  in  one  view  1  olbre  his  eyes. 
There  was  a  beach  hero  of  fine  pebbles,  whicli 
sloped  gently  into  the  water,  and  upon  this  beach 
a  nunil)er  of  boats  were  drawn  up.  After  wander- 
ing, along  the  beach  for  a  little  distance,  David 
entered  one  of  these  boats,  and  sat  down.  It  was 
a  small  boat,  with  a  mast  and  sail,  the  latter  of 
which  was  loosely  furled.  Hero  David  sat  and 
looked  out  upon  the  water. 


A   TEMPTATION. 


133 


The  glorious  scene  filled  his  whole  soul  with  en- 
thusiastic delight.  Upon  that  deep  blue  surface  his 
eye  was  attracted  by  several  white  sails  iar  away, 
that  moved  to  and  fro.  At  that  moment  it  seemed 
to  him  that  to  move  thus  over  such  a  sea  would  be 
equal  to  a  bird's  Hight  in  the  blue  of  heaven;  and 
as  he  watched  the  boats  ho  longed  to  l)e  in  them. 

Suddenly  he  thought  of  the  boat  in  which  he 
was.  Could  he  not  have  a  little  sail  up  and  down 
along  the  shore  ?  True,  he  did  not  know  how  to 
sail  a  boat,  but  ho  could  learn  ;  and  this  seemed  as 
good  a  tiine  to  learn  as  any  other.  He  did  not 
know  the  owner,  but  on  his  return  ho  could  pay 
him  what  the  excursion  might  be  worth.  He 
could  float  over  this  glorious  water,  and  move  up 
and  down  within  easy  reach  of  the  shore,  so  as  to 
land  whenever  it  might  be  desiralile. 

David  was  not  at  all  an  enterprising  boy,  or  fin 
adventurous  one.  He  was  essentially  quiet,  me- 
thodical, and  conr.ervative.  It  was  not  because 
this  sail  was  a  risky  thing  that  ho  tried  it,  but 
rather  because  it  seemed  so  perfectly  safe.  There 
was  a  breeze,  —  he  felt  it,  —  and  the  progress  of 
the  boats,  afar  off  on  the  water,  tantalized  him  and 
tempted  him  on.  The  result  was,  that  without 
taking  much  time  to  think  about  it,  David  yielded 
to  tho  inclination  of  the  moment,  and  pushing  the 
boat  from  the  land  into  the  water,  he  let  loose  the 
sail ;  and  then  seating  himself  in  the  stern,  ho  pre- 
pared to  glide  over  the  water. 


134 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


About  sailing  David  know  absolutely  nothing. 
He  was  not  even  acquainted  witli  the  theory  of 
sailing  ;  nor  did  ho  know  how,  or  on  what  princi- 
ple, a  sail-boat  moves.  About  steering  he  was 
equally  ignorant,  nor  did  he  know  how  a  boat 
obeys  its  rudder.  But  he  knew  that  the  one  who 
sails  a  boat  sits  in  the  stern,  and  hoUls  the  tiller  : 
so  David  did  the  same,  holding  the  tiller  in  his 
right  hand,  and  the  sheets  in  his  left. 

The  wind  was  not  very  strong,  and  it  happened 
to  be  blowing  in  such  a  way  that,  as  he  unfurled 
the  sail,  it  filled  at  once,  and  the  boat  moved  light- 
ly and  pleasantly  along.  The  motion  filled  David 
wnth  delight.  lie  saw  himself  borne  on  past  the 
shore,  at  a  gentle  rate,  and  I'elt  that  the  moment 
was  one  of  supreme  hsippiness.  Thus,  holding 
sheet  and  tiller,  he  resigned  himself  to  the  joy  of 
the  occasion. 

The  wind  was  moderate,  and  there  was  nothing 
whatever  in  tlie  movement  of  the  boat  to  excite  the 
slightest  uneasiness.  The  wavelets  dashed  pleasant- 
ly against  the  liows,  and  the  course  of  the  boat  re- 
mained sufHciently  straight  to  keep  her  sail  filled. 
David  saw  that  whatever  the  secret  of  navigation 
might  be,  he  had  unconsciously  stumbled  upon  it; 
and  finding  tliat  the  boat  was  doing  so  admirably,  ho 
w^as  very  careful  to  hold  thi>  iiUer  straight,  and  not 
to  move  it  to  eitfier  side.  So  he  leaned  back,  and 
luxuriatefl  in  the  pleasant  motion,  and  looked  up  at 
the  deep  blue  sky  that  bent  above  him,  and  around 


A    DARING   NAVIGATOR. 


135 


at  the  wide  expanse  of  water,  the  green  verdur- 
ous hills,  the  viue-clad  meadows,  and  the  purple 
mountains. 

Frum  time  to  time  he  noticed,  with  satisfaction, 
that  his  course  ran  along  the  shore,  parallel  to  it, 
as  it  appeared.  He  noticed,  however,  that  he  was 
now  farther  away  from  it  than  when  he  started; 
but  as  yet  the  distance  did  not  seem  excessive  ;  in 
fact,  it  seemed  on  the  whole  preferable,  since  it 
gave  him  a  finer  view.  Before  him  the  shore  ran 
on  until  it  terminated  on  a  headland,  and  David 
thought  that  this  would  be  a  good  place  to  fix  as 
the  limit  of  his  voyage. 

Never  was  any  human  being  more  utterly  out  of 
place  than  David  in  this  sail-boat,  and  never  was 
any  human  being  more  serenely  unconscious  of  his 
unfitness.  David's  frame  of  mind  was  one  of  calm, 
beatific  enjoyment.  He  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  increase  of  the  distance  between  his  boat 
and  the  shore,  which  grow  greater  every  moment, 
and  equally  unobservant  of  the  lapse  of  time.  In 
times  of  great  enjoyment  the  hours  fly  quickly  by, 
an<i  in  David's  high  exaltation  of  feeling  the  time 
thus  lied. 

At  length,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  happiness, 
the  sober  practical  thought  obtruded  itself  of  time 
and  space.  [Tow  long  had  he  been  out?  How 
much  time  would  he  have  ?  How  far  had  he 
gone?  Ho  looked  at  his  watch.  To  his  utter 
amazement  and  consternation,  ho  found  that  it  was 


136 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


seven  o'clock — the  time  fixed  for  breakfast.  He 
had  been  sailing  for  two  hours  at  least.  As  to  dis- 
tance, he  could  not  grapple  with  that  thought, 
but  urned  hastily,  and  looked  back.  That  look 
gave  lut  little  satisfaction.    He  could  see  a 

line  of  V  Le  at  the  skirts  of  the  sea  ;  but  whether 
it  was  Castellamare,  or  Naples  itself,  he  was  unable 
to  guess. 

It  was  a  wide,  sharp,  and  painful  awakening 
from  his  bliss  and  serene  delight,  and  it  was  an 
eifectual  one.  No  more  placid  gliding  now ;  no 
careless  voyaging.  Two  hours!  Seven  o'clock! 
Already  they  were  at  breakfast,  and  waiting  for 
him.  They  were  wondering  about  his  absence. 
And  when  could  he  join  them  again?  Two  hours ! 
If  it  had  taken  two  hours  to  come  thus  far,  it  would 
also  take  fully  as  much  time  to  go  back.  Go  back  ? 
And  where  should  he  go,  or  how  could  he  get 
back? 

Thus  far,  David's  idea  about  his  course,  if  he 
can  be  said  to  have  had  an  idea,  was,  that  it  lay 
along  tiie  shove,  and  that  somehow  he  could  go 
back  as  easily  as  he  had  come.  J3ut  now  that  the 
necessity  for  going  back  was  upon  him,  he  instant- 
ly became  aware  of  his  utter  ignorance,  for  he  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  how  to  turn  the  boat. 

There  was  no  time  for  delay,  however.  Some- 
thing had  to  l)edone,  and  that  immediately.  David 
knew  this  much  at  least,  that  a  boat  couhl  bo 
turned  by  means  of  the   rudder;  so  he  began  to 


A   BAFFLED    AND   CONFOUNDED    NAVIGATOR. 


137 


experiment  upon  this  part  of  tlie  vessel.  He 
pulled  the  rudder  towards  him.  The  boat  turned, 
and  as  it  turned  the  sail  began  to  flap,  and  toss, 
and  snap,  in  such  a  way  that  he  grew  exceedingly 
nervous.  Suddenly  a  pulT  of  wind  came,  and  the 
sheets  where  whipped  out  of  his  nerveless  hand, 
while  the  sail  thus  loosened  blow  forward. 

David's  heart  quaked  at  this,  and  he  knew  not 
what  to  do.  With  some  vague  idea  of  bringing 
the  boat  back  to  her  former  position,  and  beginning 
all  over  again,  he  pulled  the  tiller  first  to  one  side 
and  then  to  the  other ;  but  to  his  dismay  he  found 
that  the  boat  no  longer  obeyed  it.  Then  he  tried 
to  get  possession  of  the  sheets  again,  and,  clumsily 
crawling  forward,  he  managed  to  secure  them; 
after  which  he  crawled  back  to  the  stern,  and 
clinging  to  the  sheets,  began,  as  well  as  his  ner- 
vousness would  allow  him,  to  try  a  series  of  experi- 
ments. First,  he  pullcil  the  tiller  towards  him. 
At  this  the  boat  came  up  to  the  wind,  and  resumed 
her  former  course.  But  this  was  the  very  course 
on  which  he  did  not  wish  to  go ;  so  he  pushed  the 
tiller  from  him.  Upon  this  the  boat  fell  away ;  and 
the  flapping,  jerking,  whipping,  and  snapping^ 
which  had  so  alarmed  him  before,  recommenced, 
and  filarmed  him  more  than  ever.  For  some  time 
he  continued  this,  until  at  length,  as  he  brought 
the  boat  up  to  the  wind  once  more,  there  came  a 
fresher  puff  than  any  which  had  thus  far  blown, 
and  the  boat  lay  far  over  on  her  side.     Terrified 


138 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


out  of  his  wits,  David  had  just  sense  enoug;h  to  put 
her  off,  and  then  dropping  sheets  and  tiller,  he 
sank  back  and  looked  all  around  in  a  panic. 

This  puff  was  the  beginning  of  a  somcwiiat 
stronger  breeze  —  a  breeze  which  would  have 
rejoiced  the  heart  of  a  sailor,  but  which  carried 
nothing  but  terror  to  tiie  heart  of  David.  What  to 
do  now  he  did  not  know,  nor  for  some  moments  did 
he  even  think.  The  wind  to  his  inexperienced 
senses  seemed  a  hurricane,  and  the  wavelets 
seemed  formidable  waves.  For  a  time  he  h)}'^ 
paralyzed  in  the  stern,  expecting  every  instant  to 
be  ingulfed ;  but  as  the  time  passed,  and  his 
doom  was  delayed,  he  began  to  recover  himself, 
and  think  about  what  he  should  do  next. 

To  liim,  in  his  terror  and  anxiety,  the  first  neces- 
sity seemed  to  be  to  get  rid  of  that  dangerous  sail. 
As  it  flapped  in  the  wind  it  seemed  to  endanger 
the  boat.  At  all  hazards  that  must  be  furled  or 
taken  down.  So  once  more,  by  a  mighty  effort,  he 
crawled  forward,  and  grasping  the  flying  sheets, 
he  drew  them  in,  and  tied  the  sail  to  the  mast,  per- 
forming the  work  in  a  manner  which  was  very 
clumsy,  yet  quite  efficient.  The  uj)per  j)art  of  the 
sail  still  remained  free,  bagging  out  a  little,  like  a 
balloon ;  but  the  lower  part  was  tied  up  in  a  way 
that  would  defy  the  tempest  itself.  After  this 
David  felt  safer,  and  crawling  l)ack,  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  threw  a  fearful  glance  aiound. 

Some  time  had  been  taken  up  with  these  experi- 


David's  anxiety. 


139 


ments  in  navigation,  and  as  David  looked,  he  saw 
that  tlie  result  had  been  not  to  bring  him  nearer  to 
Castellatnare,  but  to  take  him  farther  out  from  the 
shore.  The  nearest  land  to  him  now  was  an 
island,  but  what  island  he  could  not  say.  As  his 
eyes  wandered  around,  they  saw  nothing  that  was 
familiar.  A  mountain  appeared  over  the  land 
astern,  and  the  smoke  on  its  summit  showed 
that  it  must  be  Vesuvius ;  but  it  had  a  differ- 
ent appearance  altogether  from  that  with  which 
he  was  familiar.  He  could  form  no  idea  of 
the  course  which  he  had  taken,  and  could  only 
guess,  in  a  general  way,  where  Castellamare 
might  be. 

Some  time  before,  he  had  been  troubled  at  the 
thought  that  he  would  keep  his  party  waiting ;  but 
now  he  had  no  trouble  whatever  on  that  score. 
His  only  trouble  or  anxiety  was  about  himself.  He 
felt  as  though  he  was  in  a  position  of  tremendous 
danger,  and  was  being  tossed  about  by  pitiless 
waves,  which  were  hemming  him  in  on  every  side, 
like  ravening  beasts  of  prey.  In  reality  the  piti- 
less waves  were  scarcely  waves  at  all,  tlie  breeze 
was  only  moderate,  and  there  was  no  possible 
danger ;  but  David  did  not  know  this,  and  so  he 
suffered  as  much  as  though  his  imaginary  danger 
was  real. 

Meanwhile  a  portion  of  the  sail  had  been  left 
loose,  as  has  been  said,  and  afforded  something  for 
the   breeze  to  act  upon.     The  consequence  was, 


140 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


that  the  boat  moved  along  slowly  before  the  wind, 
and  gradually  approached  the  island  which  David 
had  already  noticed.  For  some  time  he  remained 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  land  astern,  and 
Vesuvius.  When  he  withdrew  them  and  looked 
around,  the  island  was  much  nearer.  He  began  to 
see  that  he  was  approaching  that  island,  and  that 
before  long  he  would  reach  it.  This  prospect 
excited  in  his  mind  the  utmost  hope,  and  all  his  at- 
tention was  now  directed  towards  that  place.  The 
time  passea  slowly,  but  it  did  pass ;  and  at  length, 
about  three  hours  after  lie  had  first  tried  to  turn 
the  boat,  he  found  himself  so  close  to  the  island 
that  he  could  step  ashore. 

It  was  now  about  ten  o'clock.  The  place  where 
David  landed  was  a  pebbled  beach,  bordered  by 
rocks,  above  which  grew  trees.  As  he  approached 
the  island  he  saw  houses  and  people.  The  houses 
were  plain  and  small,  and  the  people  seemed 
laboring  in  the  fields.  David's  habit  uf  consider- 
ing all  Italian  peasants  as  brigands  now  excited  in 
his  mind  a  fear  which  brouglit  fresh  anxieties. 
On  this  lonely  island  the  whole  population  might 
be  brigands,  who  would  treat  him  as  lawful  prey, 
and  from  whom  he  could  hope  to  fare  no  better 
than  those  early  shipwrecked  mariners  in  these 
seas  about  whom  he  had  read  and  stu(lic<l  so 
much.  Ho  congratulated  himself  that  his  boat 
had  borne  him  to  a  sequestered  spot  like  this, 
wiiere  he  might  be  secure  from  observation,  and 


DAVID'S   FEARS. 


141 


Iiave  time  to  look  forth  and  see  what  manner  of 
men  these  island  brigands  might  be. 

And  so,  full  of  anxiety,  David  drew  his  boat 
cautiously  upon  the  beach  as  far  as  he  could,  and 
secured  it ;  after  which  he  stole  up  to  the  shelter 
of  the  trees  and  rocks,  so  as  to  reconnoitre.  The 
trees  grew  along  the  edge  of  the  rocks,  which 
rose  above  the  beach,  to  a  height  of  about  twenty 
feet,  and  formed  a  grove,  which  was  sufficiently 
dense  for  David  to  feel  secure  from  observation. 
The  grove  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  bank  for  some 
distance,  but  was  of  no  great  depth;  and  David, 
as  he  peered  through  the  trees,  could  see  an  open- 
ing beyond,  and  the  glimpse  of  white  buildings. 
Here,  then,  David  found  himself  close  to  the 
dreaded  neighborhood  of  the  brigands  of  the 
island,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  trepida- 
tion that  he  recognized  the  frailty  of  his  present 
sholter,  the  insufficiency  of  his  place  of  conceal- 
ment, and  the  necessity  that  there  was  of  leaving 
it  before  long. 

To  quit  it  and  communicate  with  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  place,  he  plainly  saw,  could  not  long 
be  avoided.  He  had  as  yet  eaten  nothing,  and 
already  he  began  to  feel  the  cravings  of  hunger. 
He  would  also  have  to  take  measures  to  effect 
his  return  to  his  friends.  His  hunger  and  his 
desire  to  get  back  to  his  friends  alike  made  him 
desperate ;  and  so,  after  a  few  minutes  of  conceal- 
ment and  fearful  inspection  of  the  scene,  he  began 


142 


AMON(!    TlIK    BRIGANDS. 


to  move  forward  cautiously,  so  as  to  make  a  more 
tliorougli  survey  of  the  open  ground  on  the  other 
side  of  the  grove. 

SteaUng  forward  as  noiselessly  and  as  warily 
as  possible,  and  keei)ing  himself  carefully  under 
the  shelter  ol"  the  heavier  foliage  and  denser 
underbrush,  David  worked  his  way  on,  and  at 
length  Ibund  himself  on  the  other  side  of  the 
grove,  where  he  could  peer  forth  through  the 
leaves  of  a  laurel  bush  upon  the  scene. 

He  saw  here  a  green  meadow,  which  ran  up 
a  moderate  declivity  till  it  reached  a  house.  The 
house  was  a  sm-iU  cottage,  of  simple  and  neat 
appearance,  and  it  stood  not  more  than  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  edge  of  the  grove.  Cattle 
were  feeding  in  the  meadow.  To  the  right 
was  a  vineyard,  and  on  the  left  an  olive  grove. 
On  one  side  of  the  olive  grove  there  ran  a 
row  of  cactuses,  up  from  the  bank  towards  the 
house. 

All  this  David  took  in  at  a  glance;  but  he  also 
saw  something  which  made  his  heart  beat  quick 
with  excitement  and  anxiety. 

He  saw  a  man  ! 

The  man  was  standing  in  front  of  the  house. 
He  was  a  big,  burly,  broad-shouldered,  bearded 
ruffian,  with  a  red  shirt,  and  a  slouching  felt 
hat.  A  short  pipe  was  in  his  mouth,  stuck  into 
the  mass  t)f  hair  which  covered  the  lower  part  of 
his  lace.     His  hair  was  long,  and  dark,  and  glossy, 


THK   HIiKiAN'l)    CHIEF. 


143 


and  curling;  falling  in  rich  clusters  below  his 
broad  felt  hat.  Ho  had  gaiters  and  stout  shoes, 
and  was  engaged  upon  a  ritle,  which  he  seemed 
to  be  cleaning. 

At  the  sight  of  this  great,  big,  bearded,  burly, 
broad-shouldered  ruffian,  David's  heart  gave  a 
great  leaf),  and  suddenly  seemed  to  stop  beating. 
He  sat  as  though  petrified,  crouching  low,  as 
though  to  avoid  observation. 

This,  then,  he  thouglit,  was  what  he  had  feared, 
and  while  trying  to  avoid  the  brigands,  he  had 
stumbled  upon  t'.ie  chief  of  them  all.  In  that 
formidable  figure  he  recognized  the  true  brigand 
style,  and  in  that  bearded  face,  with  its  bushy  eye- 
brows and  slouching  hat,  he  saw  what  seemed  to 
him,  from  that  distance,  like  the  ferocity  of  the 
implacable  Fra  Diavolo  himself. 

So  overwhelmed  was  he,  that  for  some  time  he 
could  not  move.  At  last  he  felt  a  wild  impulse  to 
fly.  He  started  back,  determining  to  seek  his 
boat  once  more.  So  hurried  was  he  that  he  was 
less  cautious  than  before,  and  catching  his  foot  in 
a  long  tendril  of  some  creeper,  he  fell.  In  fall- 
ing, he  struck  his  hand  against  some  cactus  uf 
other  thorny  plant,  and  the  spine  pierced  his 
flesh,  causing  severe  pain.  In  spite  of  himself 
a  cry  burst  from  him.  The  cry  was  instantly 
repressed,  and  David,  raising  himself,  prepared  to 
continue   his   retreat.     But  first  ho   looked  fear- 


144 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


fully   around    to    see   whether   his   cry  had   dis- 
covered him. 

As  he  did  so  his  heart  sunk  within  him. 

The  brigand  chief  had  heard  him  1 

He  was  walking  straight  towards  him  I 


DAVID   CAPTURED. 


145 


CHAPTER  XTII. 

David  Captured.  —  The  bii^,  bluff,  burly,  brusque,  bearded, 
broad-shouldered,  beetle-browed  Bully  of  a  P  'i^and.— 
A  terrijic  Inquisition.  —  David's  Plea  for  Afetey.  —  The 
hard-hearted  Captor  and  the  trembling  Captive.  —  A 
direful  Threat.  —  David  carried  off  helpless  and  despair- 
ing. —  The  Jiobbcr's  Hold. 

JO  this  great,  big,  bluff,  burly,  brusque, 
^^  bearded,  broad-shouldered,  beetle-browed 
TT  brigand  came  straight  towards  the  place 
wliere  poor  David  was ;  walking  with  great  strides  ; 
and  David,  seeing  all  liopo  lost,  stood  still,  and 
awaited  the  arrival  of  his  formidable  enemy.  The 
consciousness  of  his  utter  helplessness  filled  him 
with  despair,  and  his  ignorance  of  Italian  put  it 
out  of  his  power  to  disarm  the  fury  or  deprecate 
the  wrath  of  his  fierce  pursuer.  In  the  few  mo- 
ments that  intervened  between  the  first  discovery 
that  he  was  seen  and  the  arrival  of  his  enemy,  his 
brain  was  filled  with  confusion,  and  his  bewildered 
thoughts  turned  helplessly  to  his  friends  whom  he 
had  left  behind.  lie  thought  of  their  grief.  He 
thought,  too,  of  his  home.  Ho  thought  of  his 
mother.  That  home,  those  friends,  that  loving 
10 


146 


AMON(;    THE   BRIGANDS. 


mother,  he  now  might  never  see  again.  Farewell, 
all  dear  ones  !  Farewell,  bright  past !  Farewell, 
sweet  life,  and  glad  light  of  day  !  Such  were  the 
thougiits,  gloomy  and  despairing,  that  filled  his 
mind,  and  tormented  his  heart;  and  at  the  moment 
that  his  pursuer  entered  the  grove  and  stood  be- 
fore him,  David  looked  up  with  pale  face  and 
frightened  eyes,  and  something  like  a  sob  escaped 
him. 

The  big,  burly  brigand  stood  before  him,  and 
eyed  him  from  head  to  foot.  He  was  very  tall,  and, 
indeed,  to  David  he  seemed  gigantic,  while  his 
right  hand  held  the  rifle  like  a  walking-stick.  Ho 
looked  at  David  in  silence,  and  scanned  him  curi- 
ously all  over  ;  and  David's  eyes,  wliich  had  at 
first  sought  those  of  his  captor  in  timid  entreaty, 
now  sank  before  his  stern  gaze. 

"  Cosa  volete  ?  "  said  the  brigand.  '*  Donde  ve- 
nite?'^  in  a  deep  voice. 

"  Noil  caj/isco,"  faltered  David,  bringing  forth 
the  only  Italian  that  Ik;  knew. 

At  this  the  brigand  was  silent,  and  again  sur- 
veyed him. 

"  Parlate  Itallano?^^  he  asked,  at  length. 

"  iVb,"  said  David,  in  a  trenndous  voice ;  for 
he  understood  the  meaning  of  those  words  well 
enough. 

"  FTm  —  "  said  the  brigand,  and  then,  "  Parlez 
vous  Fran f ens  ?  " 

'*  iVo,"  said  David. 


THE    BIO    BULLY    OF   A    BRIGAND. 


147 


"  Hahla  usted  Espanol  ?  "  asked  the  brigand  once 
more,   apparently  quite  curious   to   find   out   the 
nationality  of  his  prisoner,  so  as  to  form  some  ba- 
sis of  communication  with  him. 
David  shook  his  head. 

The  brigand  paused,  and  I'rownod,  and  stared 
fixedly  at  David,  as  though  trying  to  gath(>r  from 
his  looks  and  dress  what  his  country  miglit  be. 
David's  dress  showed  him  to  be  a  respectable 
youth,  while  his  face  might  belong  to  any  nation- 
ality ;  for  his  complexion  was  dark,  and  somewhat 
sallow,  his  eyes  dark,  his  hair  black  and  straight, 
and  his  frame  slender. 

"■  Sprechen  sie  Deutsch  ?  "  asked  the  bri-and,  once 
more  returning  to  the  examination. 
David  shook  his  head. 

At  this  the  brigand  frowned,  and  once  more 
relapsed  into  sih^nce  for  some  time.  At  length  he 
made  a  further  effort. 

''liusso?"  he  asked,  in  an  interrogative   tone, 
elevating  his  eyebrows. 
David  shook  his  head. 

"  Turco  ?  "  asked  the  brigand  agaiu,  in  the  same 
tone  and  manner. 

Again  David  shook  his  head,  wondering  why  the 
brigand  sh(»uld  for  one  moment  imagine  it  possible 
that  he  could  be  a  Russian  or  a  Turk. 

"  Greco  ?  "  asked  the  brigand,  in  a  tone  of  voice 
which  seemed  as  though  he  was  about  to  give  it 
up  as  a  hopeless  conundrum. 


148 


AMONPr   THE   BRIGANDS. 


I 


When  David  shook  his  head  at  tiiis,  the  brigand 
turned  away  in  disgust,  and  stood  for  a  few  mo- 
ments meditating.  David  felt  liis  fate  to  be  hang- 
ing in  the  balance,  and  stood  in  deep  suspense, 
watching  with  anxious  ej'es  the  face  of  his  captor. 
But  the  heavy  beard  and  mustache,  and  the 
slouched  felt  hat,  concealed  all  expression  ;  nor 
could  David  see  anj'thing  there  which  could  at  all 
lessen  his  anxiety.  Ho  thought,  however,  that  if 
he  could  only  communicate  in  some  way  his  mourn- 
ful story,  and  let  his  captor  see  that  he  had  como 
here  unintentionally,  and  only  wanted  to  get  back 
to  his  friends,  he  might  excite  his  compassion,  if 
indeed  there  was  any  comy)assi(m  in  the  stern  soul 
of  this  awful  being.  It  was  David's  only  cnance, 
however  ;  and  so,  putting  his  hand  timidly  on  the 
brigand's  arm,  he  pointed  towards  the  shore,  and 
waved  his  arm  towards  Naples. 

At  this  the  brigand  stared  ;  but  seeing  that  David 
persistently  pointed  in  that  direction,  he  walked 
off  through  the  grove  for  a  few  paces,  till  he 
reached  the  top  of  the  liank,  where  the  beach  ap- 
peared before  him,  and  the  boat  drawn  up  on  it. 
David  followed  liim,  and  as  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  boat  he  pt)inted  towards  it,  and  then  touched 
his  breast,  meaning  by  that  to  show  that  the  boat 
was  his.  This  the  brigand  at  once  understood, 
and  after  once  more  staring  hard  at  David,  as 
though  anxious  to  ascertain  whether  he  was  speak- 
ing the  truth  or  nut,  he  bounded  down  the  bank. 


A   TERRIFIC    INQUISITION. 


149 


and  strode  towards  the  boat,  whicli  lie  examined 
narrowly,  inside  and  out.  During  this  time  he  paid 
no  attention  to  David  ;  but  to  the  poor  lost  lad  this 
indifTerence  gave  no  hope.  Ife  knew  that  there 
was  no  escape  for  him.  fie  felt  that  on  this  island 
the  brigand  was  supreme,  and  any  effort  to  fly 
would  only  be  worse  than  useless.  So,  instead  of 
trying  to  fly,  he  followed  the  brigand,  and  came  up 
to  where  he  was  standing  beside  the  boat. 

The  brigand  examined  it  very  narrowly  outside 
and  inside,  lie  inspected  the  bow,  the  stern,  and 
the  rudder.  lie  knelt  down  and  looked  under- 
neath. He  stepped  inside  and  examine' 1  David's 
clumsy  fastenings  of  the  sail.  These  excited  much 
interest,  apparently,  and  caused  i  Kmged  study 
on  his  part.  To  David  all  this  apficirtd  perfectly 
inteUigible,  and  very  natural.  The  brigand  was 
evidently  examining  his  plunder,  to  see  wiiat  it 
was  worth.  David  i'elt  an  additional  pang  of  grief 
at  the  thought  that  he  had  sequestrated  the  proper- 
ty of  some  innocent  Castellamare  fisherman,  and 
diverted  it  into  the  possession  of  brigands;  but  ho 
consoled  himself  by  the  thought  that  if  ho  ever 
escaped  ho  could  hunt  up  the  owner  and  make  good 
the  loss.  Escape  for  himself  was  the  first  thing, 
and  he  tried  to  hope  that  the  boat  might  prove  a 
prize  sufHciently  valuable  to  mollify  the  mind  of 
the  brigand,  and  dispose  him  to  mercy  and  com- 
passion. So,  as  the  brigand  inspected  the  boat, 
David  stood  watching   the  brigand,   and   looking 


m 


AMONG   THE   RRinANDR, 


earnestly  to  see  wliethcr  tlicro  wore  any  signs  of 
a  relenting  disposition.  But  the  lace  of  the  brig- 
and preserved  an  unchanged  expression  ;  and  af- 
ter he  had  examined  the  boat  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  once  more  confronted  David,  and  the  poor,  for- 
lorn, despairing  lad  saw  that  his  aspect  was  as  ma- 
lign, as  ferocious,  and  as  truculent  as  ever. 

David  determined  to  make  a  further  effort. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  ITe  felt  that 
he  must  pacify  this  ferocious  being,  disarm  his 
hostility,  appease  his  cruelty,  and,  if  possible,  ex- 
cite his  coni[)assion.  To  do  all  this,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  ex])ress  himself  by  signs  —  for  he 
could  not  speak  the  language;  and  though  signs 
seemed  very  inadequate,  yet  he  had  to  resort  to 
them.  He  had  heard,  however,  of  the  skill  of  the 
Italians  in  expressing  ideas  by  means  of  gestures, 
and  he  hoped  that  this  man  might  gain  some  mean- 
ing from  his  unskilled  efforts. 

So,  first  of  nil,  lie  tried  to  tell  the  lirigand  that 
he  was  from  America.  He  laid  one  hand  on  his 
heart,  and  waved  the  other  towards  what  he  sup- 
posed to  be  the  west. 

The  brigand  nodded  solemnly,  and  seemed  to 
comprehend  what  he  wished  to  state.  It  gratified 
David  to  see  this,  and  to  notice  also  (hat  the  brig- 
and was  very  attentive,  and  fixed  his  dark,  stern 
eyes  upon  him  with  closest  scrutiny. 

The  next  thing  that  David  tried  to  tell  him  was, 
that  he  had  friends  with  him. 


SIGN   LANGUAGE. 


151 


This  ho  did  by  patting  his  breast,  waving  his 
arms  around  him,  smiling,  and  touching  four  of  his 
fingers. 

Tlie  brigand  nodded.  He  had  apparently  got 
the  idea. 

David  was  very  much  encouraged. 

The  next  thing  to  be  told  was,  that  he  and  his 
friends  had  gone  on  an  excursion  into  the  country. 

This  he  did  by  prancing  along  the  sand,  and 
snapping  an  imaginary  whip;  after  wliich  he 
pointed  to  the  opposite  shore,  waving  his  hand 
along  the  country. 

The  l)rigand  nodded  again,  and  appeared  deeply 
interested. 

The  next  thing  to  be  told  was,  that  he  had  put 
off  in  this  boat. 

He  waved  his  hand  towards  Vesuvius.  Then 
he  lay  down  on  the  sand,  and  pretended  to  be 
asleep.  He  then  rose,  yawned,  and  rubbed  his 
eyes.  Then  he  went  to  the  boat,  pretended  to 
push  off  and  hoist  sail. 

The   brigand  now  nodded  very  vigorously,  and 

it  began  to  be  evident  to  David  that  his  story  was 

1  •  •  • 

maknig  some  impression. 

He  now  wished  to  explain  that  the  boat  had  gut 
beyond  his  control,  on  account  of  his  ignorance  of 
navigation,  and  that  he  had  drifted  or  been  blown 
upon  this  shore. 

To  do  this,  he  pointed  to  the  boat,  then  to  him- 
self; after  which  he  sighed  and  looked  down  in  a 


162 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


melancholy  way.  Then  ho  j2:ot  into  the  boat  and 
shook  the  sail.  Then  he  jumped  out  and  rocked 
it  as  violently  as  he  could.  Then  he  sank  back  on 
one  knee  with  folded  arms  and  upturned  face,  in- 
tending by  that  to  indicate  despair.  Then  he 
waved  his  hands  all  about,  and  pointed  to  the  boat 
and  to  the  sea ;  and  then,  pointing  alternately  to 
the  boat  and  to  the  sea,  ho  waved  his  hands,  try- 
ing to  indicate  the  track  over  whicli  he  had  passed 
while  approaching  the  island.  After  this  he  paused, 
and  turned  a  supplicatory  look  at  his  captor. 

Thereupon  the  brigand  nodded  vehemently,  as 
before. 

And  now  one  thing  yet  remained  for  David  to 
explain,  and  that  was,  his  own  position.  lie  wished 
to  tell  the  brigand  that  he  knew  he  was  in  his 
power,  and  that  he  would  pay  any  ransom,  if  he 
would  only  restore  him  to  his  friends. 

To  explain  this,  David  took  the  big  hand  of  the 
brigand,  and  put  it  upon  his  head,  stooping  down 
low  as  ho  did  so.  Then  he  waved  his  arms  all 
around,  and  mournfully  shook  his  head.  Which 
meant,  that  he  Avas  in  the  brigand's  power,  and 
would  not  and  could  not  escape.  Then  he  drew 
forth  his  purse,  tapped  it  several  times,  held  it 
out  to  the  brigand,  waved  his  hands  towards  Na- 
ples, slapped  his  breast,  and  pointed  to  the  brig- 
and and  to  himself.  Which  meant,  that  he  would 
pay  any  money,  that  he  had  friends  in  Naples  who 
would  treat  witii  the  brigand  for  his  release  on  his 


THE   CAPTOn   AND    HIS    CAPTIVE. 


153 


o^vn  terms.  Havirii^  explained  this  ranch,  David 
8topi)ed,  for  lie  felt  that  there  was  nothing  more 
for  him  to  do,  and  watched  the  effect  of  his  story^ 
and  liis  C()ncludin<^  offer. 

The  brigand  seemed  gratified.  He  nodded  sev- 
eral times  gravely  and  thoughtfully.  Then  he 
looked  at  the  boat,  and  then  at  David,  and  then 
at  the  sea.  To  David  it  seemed  as  if  the  brigand 
was  trying  to  trace  tiie  boat's  devious  track  over 
the  water,  s^o  as  to  see  whether  his  story  was  true 
or  not.  He  did  not  offer  any  further  explanations, 
but  allowed  the  brigand  to  think  it  out  for  him- 
8elf.  That  worthy  accordingly  devoted  his  mind 
to  the  consideration  of  the  situation  for  some  time, 
until  at  length  he  seemed  to  have  mastered  it,  and 
also  to  liave  come  to  a  decision  about  his  own 
course  of  conduct. 

He  reached  out  his  brawny  hand,  and  laid  it  on 
David's  head.  After  which  he  pointed  to  himself, 
and  nodded. 

By  this  David  saw,  unmistakably,  that  the  brig- 
and was  claiming  him  as  his  own  captive.  Al- 
though tiie  fact  was  already  piiinfully  evident,  yet 
this  formal  statement  of  it  produced  a  very  de- 
pressing effect  upon  David's  mind,  and  made  him 
feel  that  he  had  been  indulging  in  hopes  too  soon. 

Then  the  brigand  waved  his  hand  towanls  the 
fields,  and  the  cottage  beyond  the  grove.  After 
this,  ho  waved  his  hand  in  a  general  direction, 
and  then  swept  it  over  the  surrounding  scene.    He 


154 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


pointcfl  to  tlie  island  and  nodded,  pointed  to  Na- 
ples and  shook  his  head. 

By  which  David  understood  him  to  say,  "  You 
are  my  prisoner.  I  live  in  that  house.  You  shall 
bo  kept  there.     You  can't  escape." 

Then  the  brigand  raised  his  gun,  and  nodded  at 
David.  Then  he  slapped  the  stock  of  it  several 
times,  fixing  his  keen,  glowing  eyes  gloomily  upon 
the  lad  as  he  did  so.  Then  he  waved  his  hand 
towards  the  sky. 

By  which  David  understood  the  following :  — 

"  You're  my  prisoner  !  You  cannot  escape  ! 
If  you  dare  try  it,  I  will  shoot  you  !  You  can  no 
more  escape  than  you  can  fly  in  the  air  !  " 

Then  the  brigand  pointed  to  the  boat,  and 
touched  his  breast. 

By  which   David   understood,  — 

"  This  boat  is  mine,  and  I  will  keep  it  as  my 
lawful  prize." 

Then  he  waved  his  hand  to  the  house,  and  then 
pointed  to  Naples.  After  which  he  brought  forth 
a  purse  from  his  pocket,  tapped  it  significantly, 
pointed  to  David,  and  then  to  N.aples. 

By  which  David  understood,  — 

"  I  will  keep  you  as  a  prisoner  up  there  in  my 
house  till  I  communicate  with  your  friends  about 
your  ransom,  and  find  out  how  much  I  can  get  for 
you." 

After  this  the  brigand  pulled  the  boat  farther 
up  on  the  beach,  and  then,  beckoning  to  David  to 
follow,  he  strode  off  towards  the  house. 


DAVID    CARRH^D    OFF. 


155 


Slowly  and  sadly  poor  David  followed ;  and 
hope,  which  had  lor  a  moment  revived,  began  to 
die  out  within  him.  He  had  been  deceived  by  the 
demeanor  of  the  brigand,  during  his  own  descrip- 
tion of  his  woes  and  wandering,  and  had  mista- 
ken for  compassion  what  was  only  ordinary  atten- 
tion. The  manner  of  the  brigand,  when  he  had 
begun  to  gesticulate,  changed  hope  to  fear,  and 
fear  to  despair.  The  merciless  allusion  to  David's 
captive  state  ;  the  rude  appropriation  of  him  as  a 
prisoner  by  the  grasp  of  his  head ;  the  ferocious 
threat  with  the  gun ;  and,  finally,  the  display  of 
the  purse,  and  the  coarse  reference  to  money  and 
ransom,  all  convinced  David  that  he  had  to  do  with 
one  who  was  a  stranger  to  compassion —  a  ferocious 
and  ruthless  nature,  without  pity,  and  without  re- 
morse. And  now,  as  his  captor  led  the  way  to 
the  house,  lie  felt  that  he  was  being  conveyed  to  a 
prison,  from  which  his  escape  was,  indeed,  uncer- 
tain ;  for,  though  he  knew  that  Uncle  Moses  would 
pay  any  ransom,  yet  he  could  not  know  whether 
the  brigand  would  ever  be  able  to  communicate 
with  him  or  not.  On  the  whole,  it  was  the  darkest 
hour  of  his  life  ;  and  the  stride  of  the  ruffian  in 
front  of  him  seemed  like  the  march  of  inevitable 
Fate  ! 

They  climbed  up  the  bank,  and  then  went 
through  the  grove.  p]rnerging  into  the  field,  they 
walked  on  towards  the  house.  As  they  drew 
nearer,  David  saw  signs  that  were  not  altogether 


156 


AMONG    THE   BRIOANDS. 


in  keeping  with  the  rougli  exterior  of  his  enemy, 
for  in  front  of  the  cottage  there  were  flowers  in 
bloom,  which  appeared  to  be  cultivated  by  some 
careful  hand ;  but  a  moment's  thouglit  sliowod  Da- 
vid that  thia  might  bo  the  work  of  the  robber's 
wife.  The  prospect  of  meeting  with  a  woman  af- 
forded hope  ;  for  whatever  the  husband  might  bo, 
the  wife  might  be  gentle,  and  pitiful,  and  woman- 
ly ;  and  David  drew  hope  from  the  flowers ;  lor 
the  one  that  could  have  tastes  like  these  might 
not  be  altogether  hard  and  implacable  ;  and  as  the 
giants  and  ogres  of  the  fairy  books  had  wives  who 
generally  were  willing  to  help  tiie  victims  of  their 
husbands,  so  here,  in  the  wife  of  this  Italian  ogre, 
David  hoped  to  find  one  who  might  be  as  merciful 
as  those  of  fairy  lore. 

At  length  they  reached  the  house,  and  the  brig- 
and, after  waiting  for  a  moment  for  his  prisoner  to 
come  up,  entered  the  door.  David  followed,  and 
found  himself  inside. 

The  door  opened  immediately  into  a  room.  It 
was  large  and  low.  The  floor  was  paved  with 
red  tiles,  and  the  walls  were  of  wood,  varnished. 
Around  the  Avails  hung  numerous  jjictures  with- 
out frames.  In  different  places  there  were  con- 
fused heaps  of  clothing  and  drapery.  The  clothing 
was  rich,  though  fantastic.  In  one  corner  was  a 
frame  with  armor  suspended  ;  while  over  this,  on 
the  wall,  he  saw  arms  of  different  kinds  —  pistols, 
carbines,  daggers,  and  blunderbusses.     The  fash- 


THE   robber's   hold. 


iff 


ion  of  all  these  was  somewhat  antique,  and  there 
was  a  richness  in  their  ornaments  whicli  even 
David  noticed,  in  spite  of  his  trouble  and  anxiety. 
Tiie  furniture  about  the  room  was  old-fash, 
ioned,  formed  of  massive  mahogany,  carved  most 
elal)orately,  and  was  of  so  many  dilfurent  styles 
that  tlie  pieces  seemed  thrown  together  at  random. 
A  Glastonbury  chair  stood  beside  an  Elizabethan 
sofa ;  a  modern  Davenport,  a  Louis  Quatorze  side- 
board, and  a  classic  tripod,  stood  in  a  row.  Some 
Chinese  tables  were  in  one  corner.  In  the  centre 
of  the  room  was  a  table  of  massive  construction, 
with  richly  carved  legs,  that  seemed  as  old  as  the 
middle  ages ;  while  beside  it  was  an  American 
rocking-chair,  in  which  lay  a  guitar.  The  whole 
scene  struck  David  as  being  perfectly  in  keeping 
with  his  captor  ;  for  this  interior  looked  like  some 
pictures  which  he  had  seen  of  robber  holds, 
where  the  accumulated  plunder  of  years  is  heaped 
indiscriminately  together,  and  remnided  him  vivid- 
ly of  the  descriptions  which  he  had  read  of  the 
abodes  of  pirates  or  brigands,  in  the  novels  of 
Cooper,  in  Francisco,  the  Pirate  of  the  Pacific, 
Lafitte,  the  Pirate  of  the  Gulf,  and  Rinaldo  Ri- 
naldini. 


158 


AMONO   THE    BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


On  the  Way  to  Sorrento  a^^ain.  —  A  viournful  Ride.  —  ./ 
despair  ill  i^  Search.  —  A  fearful  Discovery. —  The  old 
l'iraj;o  attain.  —  /«  a  Trap. — Sorrento  aroused.  —  lie- 
sici^ed. — All  lost.  —  //  rai:^ing  Cro7vd.  —  The  hmvlini^ 
Has[.  —  Hurried  Consultation.  —  The  last  Jorlorn  Hope. 
— Disguise,  Fliiiht,  and  Concealment. 

(k^^jO,  iis  I  have  sai(],tli(^  rarria^e  rolled  out  from 
^^^  Castellamare,  alon^  the  road  to  Sorrento, 
>.^  freip^hted  with  its  anxious  load.  All  were 
silent.  Uncle  Moses  was  weighed  down  hy  an 
anxiety  that  was  too  deep  for  words,  and  sat  bent 
forward  with  his  head  buried  in  his  hands.  The 
boys  respected  his  feelings  too  much  to  say  any- 
thing, and  consequently  they,  too,  sat  in  silence. 
They  were  far  JVom  feeling  anything  like  despair, 
however,  on  David's  accoimt.  Before  they  started. 
Bob  had  assured  them  that  "  Dave  "  was  "  all 
right,"  and  would  turn  up  before  long  somewhere 
—  an  assurance  which  Frank  and  Clive  accepted  as 
a  perfectly  sound  and  reliable  statement ;  and  so, 
if  they  were  silent,  it  was  not  so  much  the  silence 
of  care  or  sadness,  as  of  sympathy  with  Uncle 
Moses. 


ON   Til  10   WAY   TO   SOHRKNTO    AGAIN. 


159 


As  they  went  along  they  met  people  from  time 
to  time,  some  wayfarers,  some  in  carriages,  some 
in  wagons,  and  some  on  horseback.  In  accordance 
with  the  earnest  request  of  Uncle  Moses,  the 
driver  questioned  all  these  without  excei)tioii,  and 
asked  tiie  same  (juestion  of  all. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  a  boy  about  fifteen 
years  old  —  pale,  with  dark  hair,  sallow  face,  and 
gray  dress?  " 

And  to  this  question  there  was  one  uniform 
answer  from  every  one. 

"  No." 

And  at  each  fresh  answer  Uncle  Moses  would 
feel  more  and  more  disheartened,  and  sink  into  a 
new  abyss  of  despondency  .md  anxiety. 

Far  different  was  this  journey  to  Sorrento  from 
that  former  one  which  they  had  made  a  few  days 
before.  Then  they  were  all  together,  and  every 
one  Avas  filled  with  joy  and  enthusiasm.  Then  no 
one  in  that  little  party  was  penetrated  with  a  more 
profound  and  heartfelt  joy  than  David,  who,  in 
addition  to  a  boy's  delight  at  novelty,  brought 
forth  all  that  classical  glow  and  fervor  which  were 
peculiarly  his  own.  And  now,  where  was  he  ? 
The  nearer  they  drew  to  Sorrento,  the  more  urgent 
and  pressing  did  this  question  become ;  and  as 
each  one  asked  it  of  himself,  there  was  no  answer. 
Gradually  the  spectacle  of  the  woe  of  Uncle  Moses 
began  to  affect  the  boys,  and  in  spite  of  Bob's  con- 
fidence they  began  to  feel  an  unpleasant  fear  steal- 
ing over  them. 


160 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


A  little  'vay  out  of  Sorrento  the  driver  halted 
and  spoke  to  Uncle  Moses. 

He  felt  a  little  troubled,  he  said,  about  taking 
the  carriage  into  tlio  town.  Ho  reminded  them  of 
the  recent  uproar  of  the  people,  and  their  narrow 
escape,  and  warned  them  that  if  they  were  rec- 
ognized they  might  again  be  assailed. 

But  this  warning  fell  on  heedless  ears.  Uncle 
Moses  was  decided  to  gtt  on.  If  David  was  any- 
where, he  might  be  in  that  very  town,  a  pr  ner 
in  the  hands  of  those  foolish  people  who  took  of- 
fence at  nothing.  If  they  wished  to  save  him,  they 
must  go  into  the  very  midst  of  the  people,  and 
save  him  from  their  vengeance. 

At  this  the  driver  drove  on. 

About  a  half  a  mile  outside  the  town  they  over- 
took an  old  woman,  and  the  driv'er  stopped,  an(( 
put  to  her  the  usual  question.  As  the  woman 
looked  uj)  they  all  recognized  her  at  once. 

She  was  their  old  friend,  or  rather  enemy  —  the 
virago  herself,  and  no  other  ! 

At  the  driver's  question  she  stared  at  them,  and 
at  once  recognized  them  all.  A  dark  and  gloomy 
expression  came  over  her,  and  if  glances  could 
have  injured  them  they  would  have  been  blasted 
on  tiie  spot. 

She  stood  there,  and  after  the  driver  had  asked 
the  question  she  glared  at  them  ibr  some  time  in 
silence,  looking  from  one  to  the  (;ther.  Then  she 
stretched    forth   a  long,   bony,   skinny   hand,  and 


REAPPEARANCE    OF   THE   01. D    A'lRAGO. 


161 


shook  it  iit  them.  Then  she  burst  forth  in  a  long, 
shrill,  venomous  strain  of  denunciation,  of  which 
the  boys  could  not  understand  one  word;  but  the 
meaning  of  which  they  could  easily  conjecture. 

"  What  does  she  say  ? '"'  asked  Uncle  Moses  of 
the  driver. 

"  0,  nothing,"  said  the  driver.  "  She  only  doea 
curse ;  and  she  say  she  will  hal'  vengeance." 

And  once  more  the  driver  urged  Uncle  Mosea 
to  go  back. 

But  this  appearance  of  the  virago  and  her 
threats  only  roused  Uncle  Moses  to  fresh  deter- 
mination. He  was  now  confident  tliat  David  had 
been  seized  by  tlie  iSorrentonians,  and  that  this 
M'oinan  was,  perhaps,  the  instigator  and  leader  in 
the  act.  He  urged  the  driver  to  talk  to  her ;  but 
the  driver  eissured  him  that  it  was  useless,  that 
she  was  crazy,  and  that  if  they  wanted  to  gain 
information  they  must  make  inquiries  elsewhere. 

They  now  resumed  their  progress,  and  before 
long  entered  the  town,  and  reached  the  hotel. 
Uncle  ^foses  at  once  sought  the  landlord.  At  the 
appearance  of  the  cirriage  and  ])assenger8  the 
landlord  looked  a  little  nn.Msy,  and  at  the  inquiry 
of  Uncle  Moses  he  looked  stih  more  troubled.  But 
as  to  David  he  knew  nothing  whatever. 

"  Had  he  heard  of  a  boy  being  arrested  any- 
where ?  " 

"  iXo  —  nothing  at  all." 

"  Had  he  heard  of  any  one  being  arrested?" 
11 


162 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


"  No." 

"  Had  be  lieard  any  people  making  any  threats 
against  tiiom  ?  " 

"  O,  certainly  —  for  the  whole  of  the  next  day 
there  was  nothing  but  threats  against  the  sac- 
rilegious foreigners ;  bnt  the  feeling  had  subsided 


Still  th( 


nito 


Id 


snice.  otui  tlieir  appearance  in  >( 
undoubtedly  rouse  the  people  again,  and  the  land- 
lord urged  them  for  their  own  sakes  to  liurry  away 
as  fast  as  possible  back  to  Castellamare. 

But  Uncle  Moses  refused  to  think  of  this.  He 
was  here,  Jind  here  he  would  remain  until  he  had 
found  David.  He  wanted  the  landlord  to  help  him 
in  this  task.  Let  him  go  out  and  mollify  the  j)eo- 
ple  in  any  way,  and  see  if  he  could  find  anything 
about  the  lost  boy.  He  promised  to  pay  any  sum 
to  the  landlord,  or  anybody  else,  if  they  would  only 
eil'ect  his  rescue. 

This  ])roniise  acted  powerfully  upon  the  land- 
lord's cupidity,  and  he  thought  that  at  any  rate  it 
would  be  well  to  try.  So  ho  told  Uncle  Mosea  to 
wait,  and  he  would  see  what  could  bo  done.  Ho 
thereupon  left  them,  and  Uncle  xMoses  and  the  boys 
walked  uj)  stairs  to  that  same  room  in  whijh  they 
had  dined  before,  when  the  uproar  of  the  people 
reached  their  ears.  Here  they  sat  down  and 
waited  in  silence. 

They  did  not  have  to  wait  very  long.  Tt  was 
not  more  than  a  (piarter  of  an  hour,  or  twenty 
minutes,  when  hurried  footsteps  were  heard,  and 


A    RAGING    CROWD. 


163 


(l- 


the  landlord  ruKhed  in,  followed  by  the  drivcE. 
Both  wore  agitated  and  disturbed.  At  the  same 
instant  an  outcry  arose  from  without,  and  a  tumult 
of  eager  and  excited  voices  burst  upon  their  ears. 
Tiio  landlord  clasped  his  hands,  and  stood  listening. 
The  driver  rushed  to  Uncle  Moses,  and  cried, — 
"  Dey  liaf  come  !  —  de  people  !  You  are  lost ! " 
At  this  IJiude  Moses  and  the  boys  started  to 
their  feet  aghast,  and  Frank  rushed  to  the  win- 
dow, and  standing  so  as  to  be  as  little  observed  as 
possible,  he  looked  out. 

In  the  street  in  front  ho  saw  an  excited  crowd, 
which  was  not  so  large  as  it  had  been  on  that 
former  memorable  occasion,  but  which  promised  to 
be  so  before  another  quarter  of  an  hour,  for  people 
were  ruiuiing  up  every  minute,  and  adding  to  the 
uproar,  'i'lie  cries  grew  louder  and  louder,  and 
though  Frank  could  not  understand  the  words,  he 
perceived  plainly  enough  that  they  werefierce  cries 
of  anger  and  vengeance.  And  there,  conspicuous 
among  this  crowd,  was  that  identical  old  woman  — 
that  villanous  old  virago,  who  had  caused  all  the 
former  trouble,  and  seemed  now  bent  upon  the 
full  accom[)lishment  of  her  furious  purpose.  Dan- 
cing, howling,  shrirking,  sho  stood  close  by  the 
door  of  tlie  hotel,  which  was  now  shut  and  barred, 
and  shook  her  lists  at  the  building,  and  yelled  out 
curses  at  those  within,  and  calletl  upon  her  fellow- 
citizens  to  break  into  the  hotel,  and  seize  the  sao- 
rilegious  and  barbarous  foreigners.     Frank  was  a 


164 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


bold  boy,  but  this  sight  was  too  much  for  liim. 
His  heart  sank  within  him,  and  he  involuntarily 
shrank  back  iarther  out  of  sight. 

Soon  the  people  outside  began  to  throw  at  the 
party  within  something  harder  than  words.  Stones 
came  flying  through  the  open  windows,  and  one  of 
these  missiles  came  very  close  to  the  head  of 
Uncle  Moses.  The  landlord  rushed  forward,  and 
closed  all  the  shutters,  and  barred  them,  while  the 
boys  gathered  around  Uncle  Moses  as  though  to 
protect  him  I'rorn  those  savage  assailants  without. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ? "  asked  Frank  of  the 
driver. 

The  driver  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Can't  wo  drive  through  them  as  we  did 
before  ?  " 

"  Dey  have  put  a  guard  at  de  gate.  Dey  pre- 
pare dis  time  — an  not  let  us  go." 

"  Isn't  there  any  back  way?"  asked  Frank,  once 
more,  of  the  landloivl,  who  now  I'ejoined  them,  alter 
having  barred  all  the  windows. 

"  Dere  is  ;  but  de  people  are  on  de  guard." 

"Are  there  no  soldiers  about — no  police? 
Can't  some  one  go  and  get  help  ? " 

The  landlord  shook  his  head  despondingly. 

"  JJut  there  must  be  some  Wiiy  of  getting  rid  of 
the  mol),"  said  Fiank,  impatiently.  "Can't  you 
explain  that  it  was  all  a  mistake  ?  " 

The  landlord  sighed. 

"  I  liaf  try,"  he  said,  in  a  doleful  voice.     "  And 


HURRIED    CONSULTATION, 


165 


dey  say  I  mus  put  you  out  of  de  house.     Dat  I 
can  not  do  —  so  I   sail  haf  to  soffairo.     Listen  !  " 
And    at  that  moment  the    crash   of  glass   below 
interrupted    him,    and    formed    a    striking    com- 
mentary on  his  remarks.     "  Dey  vill  break  de  vin- 
dow/'  saiil  he,  "  an  dey  vill  try  to  break  de  door; 
but  I  haf  barricade  as  well  as  I  can." 
"  Are  we  at  all  safe  ?  "  asked  Frank. 
The  landlord  shook  his  head. 
"  Not  mooch.     If  dey  get  enrage  enough,  dey 
break  in,  and  den"  — a  signiticant  shrug  ended 
the  sentence. 

"  Have    you    any     arms  —  fire-arms  ?  "    asked 
Frank,  after  a  thoughtful  pause. 
"  I  haf  a  small  shot  gun." 
"  Give  me  that,"  interrupted  Frank. 
"  liut  I  h;if  no  powdaire,"  said  the  landlord. 
At  tin's  Frank  turned  away  in  despair. 
"  Can't  we  get  to  some  other  room  than  this  ?  " 
ho  asked  of  the  driver.     "  Isn't  there  a  place  where 
we  can  have  some  chance  of  defending  ourselves  ?  " 
The  driver  had  been  silent  for  some  time,  and 
buried    in    thought.     He    did    not    hear   Frank's 
words,  but  as  he  spoke,  ho  looked  earnestly  at  him, 
and  siiid,  — 

"  I  haf  a  [)l!in.     It  may  be  no  good  —  but  it  is  de 
only  one." 

"  Ah,"  asked  Fnmk,  eagerly,  "  what  is  that?  " 
"  You  must  all  disguise." 
"  Disguise  ?  " 


166 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


"Yes  —  female  dress.  I  sail  try  to  p:et  some." 
"  But  tlicy  would  recognize  us  all  the  same." 
"No  —  de  plan  is  dis.  You  all  disguise  —  stay 
below  —  I  sail  sit  in  de  carriage  ;  de  horses  are  all 
ready  now.  Ef  do  people  do  break  in,  dey  will  all 
rush  up  stair  to  here.  You  sail  be  down  stair  in 
de  stable.  De  moment  de  crowd  come,  I  will  haf 
de  gates  opened.  You  sail  spring  in  —  an  den  I 
whip  up,  an  make  a  fly  for  life.     You  ond'stan  ?  " 

The  driver  spoke  hurriedly.  Frank  understood 
him,  and  at  once  approved.  At  this  the  driver 
went  off  to  get  the  landlord  to  procure  female 
dresses.  That  worthy  hurried  away,  and  soon 
returned  with  about  twenty  gowns,  bonnets,  and 
petticoats.  These  he  threw  upon  the  floor,  and 
implored  them  to  make  haste,  for  the  people  out- 
side were  talking  of  getting  a  beam  to  batter  in 
the  door.  Ho  had  implored  them  not  to,  but  they 
scorned  his  prayers. 

Upon  this  the  boys  began  to  put  on  the  dresses, 
disguising  themselves  as  well  as  they  could.  It 
was  very  clumsy  work,  and  they  were  very  uncer- 
tain about  the  proper  way  of  fastening  them  ;  but 
the  driver  and  the  landlord  assisted  them.  The 
dresses  were  those  of  Italian  peasant  women,  and 
required  no  very  elaborate  adjustment.  Some 
coarse  bonnets,  of  an  anti(]ue  type,  were  stuck  on 
their  heads,  and  served  to  conceal  their  short  hair 
and  faces. 

With  Uncle  Moses  they  had  very  much  trouble. 


PRRPARATIONS   FOR   LEAVING. 


167 


At  first  he  refused  positively,  and  only  con- 
sented when  he  was  assured  that  the  safety  of  the 
boys  depended  upon  his  disguise.  So  he  yielded 
reluctantly,  and  allowed  the  driver  to  officiate  as 
lady's  maid. 

No  sooner  was  this  task  concluded,  than  the 
landlord  and  driver  hurried  them  down  stairs,  and 
through  a  passage-way  into  the  barn.  Outside,  in 
the  court-yard,  was  the  carriage,  with  the  horses 
ready.  The  hostler  was  sent  to  the  gate  to  fling  it 
open  at  the  driver's  signal,  and  the  landlord, 
stimulated  by  a  promise  from  Uncle  Moses  of  a 
large  reward  in  case  of  his  rescue,  returned  to  the 
hotel,  to  operate  upon  the  crowd  from  that  quarter. 


108 


AMONG    THK   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

In  the  Robber's  Hold. -The  Brii^and's  Bride.- Sudden, 
amazini,r,  overwhelming,  bewilderinj^r,  tremendous,  as- 
tounding,  overpoiverini^,  and  crushing  Discovery.  —  The 
Situation.  — Everybody  confounded  —  The  Crowd  at  Sor- 
rento. —  The  Landlord's  Prayers.  —  The  Virago  calls  Jo/' 
Vengeance. 

l^fe^HE  brigand  put  his  gun  down  upon  the  sofa, 
"''*'"^     and  motioned  to  David  to  take  a  seat.     He 
tlion  left  the  room,  and  David  heard   his 

voice  calling,  — 

''  Laura  !     Laura  !  " 

A  Ught  footstep  sounded  in  the  next  room,  and 
the  brigand  returned,  followed  by  a  woman. 

This  woman's  appearance  astonished  David. 
She  was  a  lady.  She  was  young,  beautiful,  bright 
as  a  vision,  dressed  simply,  but  in  the  modern 
fashion  altogether.  She  had  a  very  sweet  lace, 
and  a  bewitching  smile,  and  as  she  entered  she 
looked  at  David  in  some  surprise. 

Then  this  great,  big,  bluff,  bearded,  broad- 
shouldered,  beetle-browed,  brusque  bully  of  a 
brigand;  this  fierce,  ferocious,  bloodthirsty,  re- 
lentless, ruthless    ruffian;    this   hard-hearted,   im- 


THE   BRIGAND  S    ACCOUNT    OF   DAVID. 


169 


placable,  inoxorablo  villain  ;  this  cruel,  vengeful, 
vindictive,  griping,  grasping,  scowling  fiend ;  this 
demoniac  miscreant,  without  pity,  and  without  re- 
morse, opened  Iiis  mouth. 

And  this  is  what  ho  said,  in  first-rate  English  !  — 
"  See  here,  Laura;  I've  picked  up  a  pour  wretch 
of  a  Bohemian  —  can't  speak  a  word  of  any  lan- 
guage, and  had  to  explain  by  signs.  AVell,  you 
know  I'm  great  on  gestures;  so  I  worked  his  story 
out  of  him.  It  seems  he  came  to  Naples  with  his 
father,  mother,  and  two  sisters,  and  they  all  went 
on  horseback  up  Vesuvius.  Well,  somehow  they 
were  captured  by  brigands,  and  were  carried  off; 
but  the  father,  who,  1  believe,  is  a  medical  man, 
managed  to  drug  the  food  of  the  scoundrels,  and 
carried  oif  his  family.  Well,  they  got  to  the  shore, 
i'ound  a  boat,  and  set  out  for  Naples.  After  sailing 
a  little  distance,  a  s(juall  struck  the  boat,  and  it 
upset.  All  were  drowned  except  this  poor  lad, 
who  managed  to  cling  to  the  boat,  and  drift(  d,  or 
was  blown,  ashore  here  on  the  cove,  just  down 
there,  last  night.  He  was  senseless  all  night,  and 
only  came  to  himself  a  little  while  ago,  and  I 
picked  him  up  just  as  he  was  reviving.  He  says 
he  is  alone  in  tiie  world,  and  has  appe;ded  to  me 
to  iiflp  him.  Poor  lad  !  my  heart  fairly  aclies  for 
him.  IJo  says  he  hasn't  got  a  penny  of  money, 
and  implores  me  to  help  him.  Of  course  I've  tried 
to  comibrt  him;  for  I've  told  him  that  lu,'  may 
make   my   house  his  home,  and  I've  promised  to 


no 


AMONG   THE   BRIP.ANDS. 


give  him  wluitovor  money  he  wanta,  and  movo 
heaven  and  earth  to  get  him  back  to  his  frieudrt, 
if  lie  has  any." 

During  this  astounding  speech  tho  lady  had 
stolen  over  to  David,  and  s-itting  by  his  side,  she 
placed  a  soft  hand  tenderly  on  his  head.  As  the 
story  was  being  told,  her  oy<s  lilled  with  tears, 
and  leaning  forward,  she  kiss(  the  poor  boy's  pale 
brow.  When  it  ended  she  murmured  in  English, 
that  was  even  better  than  that  of  the  "  brigand,"  — 

"  Poor  boy  !  poor  boy  !  O,  Walter,  dearest,  how 
I  do  wish  I  could  speak  Bohemian,  so  ad  to  tell 
him  how  sorry  I  feel !  " 

And  what  of  David  ? 

What  did  David  think  —  feel  —  say  ? 

Nothing.     Not  a  word  ! 

David  was  paralyzed.  He  was  stunned.  Ho 
gasped  for  breath. 

And  so  this  was  his  brigand  —  the  brutal,  tho 
beetle-browed,  the  cruel,  tho  bloody-minded,  the 
inexorable,  tho  demoniac,  and  all  the  rest  of  it ! 
He  gasped  for  breath,  as  1  think  I  have  already 
remarked ;  and  as  the  ex-brigand  went  on  with  his 
liarrativ(;,  David  listened  in  a  dazed  way,  and 
began  to  understand  that  the  language  of  gestures 
lias  its  little  uncertainties.  But  when  the  lady 
kissed  him,  and  when  her  sweet  voice  sj)oke  those 
tender  words  of  l)ity,  he  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
His  Voice  came  to  him.     He  burst  forth, — 

"  0.  how  I  thank  you !  0,  how  good  you  are  1 
Q,  what  a  fool  I  am  !  " 


TIIK   EXPLANATION. 


171 


.11" 
"An 


And  liu  could  Hay  no  rnort;. 

Not  a  word  more,  on  my  honor. 

It  was  now  tlio  turn  of  tlio  others  to  bo 
Burpriscd. 

The  lady  started  back  in  wonder,  and  looked  at 
David,  and  then  at  her  husband.  The  ex-bri^and 
started  back  also,  and  stared  at  David  in  utter 
bewilderment. 

"  What !  "  he  roared,  in  a  deep,  thunderous  bass 
voice.     "  Say  that  again." 

"  0,  I'm  an  American --and  I'm  such  a 
said  Davich     '*  Why  didn't  I  tell  you  so?" 

"  An  American  !  "  roared  the  ex-brigand 
American  !  " 

Upon  this  he  burst  into  a  perfect  thunder-peal 
of  laughter.  The  laughter  came  furth,  pe<il  after 
peal,  in  long  and  deafening  explosions,  till  the 
house  vibrated  with  the  sound,  and  till  at  last  the 
cx-brigand  sank  exhausted  into  the  Glastonburj 
chair. 

"  An  American  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  and  think  of  mo  — 
ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  asking  3'ou  if  you  spoke  every  lan- 
guage in  the  Avorld —  ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  Init  the  right 
one  —  ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  and  speaking  every  language 

—  ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  but  my  own  —  ha,  ha.  ha  !  And  to 
think  of  us  two  Americans  —  ha,  ha,  ha  !  — after  try- 
ing Italian —  ha,  ha,  ha!  —  and  French,  and  Spanish, 
and  German —  ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  rushing  into  gestures  ! 

—  ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  gestures  !  —  only  think,  Laura  — 
ha,  ha,  ha!     He  and  I  —  ha,  ha,  ha!  —  spending 


172 


AMONG   THK    BRir.ANDS. 


an  hour  in  makinjij  signs  to  each  other  —  ha,  ha, 
ha  I  —  but  'pon  iny  life  it's  too  bad  in  ine  to  be 
howling  out  in  tiiis  fashion,  my  poor  lad,  when 
you're  in  tlio  midst  of  such  deep  afiliction.  1 
swear  I'm  sorry.     I  forget  myself." 

"  But  I'm  not  in  any  afiliction  at  ail,"  said  David. 

"What!  What's  that?"  cried  the  ex-brigand. 
"  Didn't  you  lose  your  father  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  But  your  father,  and  mother,  and  the  rest  of 
them  —  " 

"  No,"  said  David.  "  You  didn't  quite  under- 
stand what  I  wanted  to  say."  And  he  then  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  his  story  in  plain  English.  lie  was 
listened  to  with  deep  attention  ;  but  as  his  story 
turned  out  to  be  so  different  from  the  first  rej/ort 
of  the  ex-brigand,  the  lady  stole  an  arch  look  at 
her  husband,  and  her  eyes  fairly  danced  with  fun 
and  merriment.  But  the  ex-brigand  bore  it  ad- 
mirably ;  and  as  David  ended,  and  showed  himself 
to  be  in  no  such  deep  afiliction  as  had  been  sup- 
posed, he  once  more  burst  forth  in  a  fresh  peal  of 
riotous  laughter. 

Upon  this  David  ventured  to  hint  at  his  own 
late  fears,  and  on  being  questioned  by  the  lady  he 
confessed  frankly  what  had  been  the  interpreta- 
tion that  he  put  upon  the  signs  of  the  ex-brigand. 

"  Well,"  said  that  worthy,  "  I'm  not  a  brigand  at 
all.     I'm  an  artist." 

"  I'm  sure  1  don't  wonder,  Walter,"  said  the  lady. 


TMK   EXPLANATION. 


173 


"You  dress  yonrself  uy>  in  such  an  absurd  fashion 
—  and  I'vo  always  told  you  that  this  room  looks 
like  a  bandit's  den." 

"No,  no,  Laura;  say  an  artist's  studio.  IIow 
could  I  got  along  without  my  furniture.  As  for 
my  dress,  it's  quite  in  keeping  with  the  place  and 
the  people.  Its  picturesque,  and  that's  all  an 
artist  is  bound  to  consider." 

Further  explanations  followed,  in  the  course  of 
which  it  appeared  that  this  ex-brigand  was  Mr. 
Walter  Ludlow,  an  American  artist,  who,  for  the 
time  being,  was  living  here  with  his  bride.  They 
had  been  married  three  months.  The  island  was 
Capri.  They  were  enjoying  love  in  a  cottage, 
which  cottage  was  furnished  in  an  artistic,  rather 
than  a  fashionable  way.  They  lived  here  quite 
free  from  restraint,  and  the  artist  occupied  the 
time  partly  with  his  art,  and  partly  with  general 
enjoyment.  Neither  of  them  felt  at  all  inclined  to 
leave  Capri  for  some  time  to  come,  but  thought  it 
the  pleasantest  place  in  the  world. 

Ludlow  jiappened  that  day  to  be  cleaning  his 
gun,  with  the  intention  of  going  on  a  shooting- 
excursion.  The  noise  which  had  been  made  in 
the  wood  by  David  had  startled  him,  and  he  had 
gone  to  see  what  it  was,  with  the  idea  that  some 
cattle  had  strayed  along  the  shore,  and  were 
coming  into  the  fields  and  gardens. 

When  Ludlow  explained  his  gestures  to  David, 
and    the   latter  confessed  what  interpretation  he 


174 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


had  put  on  tlioin,  further  liiiiu'liter  was  elicited 
from  the  fun-loviiip;  artist,  in  which  his  wife  joined, 
and  David  also.  Ludlow,  as  soon  as  he  was  in  a 
condition  to  speak,  proceeded  to  explain  what  ho 
really  meant.  Ilis  g:estures  were  all  intended  by 
him  to  express  the  following  ideas :  — 

1.  I'm  an  American. 

2.  I  don't  live  here  — I  only  lodge. 

3.  I'm  an  artist. 

4.  I'm  veiy  sorry  for  you,  and  I'll  tako  care 
of  you. 

5.  I'm  going  out  sliooting  soon. 

6.  Don't  fret.  I'll  tako  care  of  you,  and  the 
boat  too,  as  long  as  you  like. 

7.  I  live  in  that  house  up  there,  and  you  can 
stay  there  till  you  hear  from  your  friends. 

But  Mrs.  Ludlow  now  retreated,  and  before  long 
she  had  a  table  set  for  their  young  guest,  at 
which  David  took  his  seat,  and  ate  with  an  appe- 
tite that  had  been  sharpened  by  his  long  fast. 
While  at  the  tal)lo  Ludlow  questioned  him  more 
particularly  about  his  friends,  and  wher^;  ho  had 
left  them. 

"  Well,  David,  my  lad,"  said  the  artist,  at  length, 
"  I  should  like  very  much  to  have  you  stay  Avith 
U8  for  a  time;  and  if  you  could,  I  Jeel  conlident 
that  I  could  show  you  what  would  Avell  repay  you. 
Are  you  aware  that  on  this  island  is  one  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world  —  the  liunous  jrrotto?  I 
should  like  to  take  you  there  —  but  I  see  how  it 


IX   SORIiKNTO. 


175 


is.  As  you  say,  your  undo  will  bo  wild  with 
anxiety  aliout  you,  ;uid  will  'i!:ivo  no  peace  till  he 
hears  Iroia  you.  So  I  riuj)p(js(!  the  best  thing  I 
can  do  tor  you,  is  to  restore  you  to  Iiirn  first  ol'  all, 
and  then  arrange  for  a  visit  fVoni  you  ail  on  some 
future  occasion."' 

David  thankeil  him  very  earnestly,  and  dwelt 
strongly  upon  the  anxiety  of  Uncle  Moses  under 
the  circutnstances. 

"Well,  my  lad,"'  said  Ludlow,  "1  think  you'd 
best  go  olf  at  once,  aiul  1  mean  to  go  with  y(»u. 
Unfortunately  there  is  a  head  wind,  just  now,  so 
that  we  cannot  go  to  Castellamare  without  taking 
too  long  a  time,  'i'he  best  way  will  be  to  go  over 
to  Sorrento  from  this  place,  and  take  a  carriage,  or 
horses,  Xo  Castellamare." 

This  projxjsal  pleased  David  greatly,  and  as 
Ludlow  was  reatly  to  start,  Ik^  rose  to  go.  Mrs. 
Ludlow  bade  him  good  by,  and  pressed  him  al- 
fectiouately  to  come  baik  with  his  friends. 

In  a  short  time  they  were  in  the  boat  and  afloat. 
Ludlow  was  a  good  sailor,  and  the  wind  was  favor- 
able for  a  passage  to  Sorrento.  The  distance  was 
traversed  ipiickly  and  pleasantly  ;  and  then,  leav- 
ing the  boat,  they  walked  up  into  the  town  towards 
the  JKjtel,  to  see  about  getting  a  conveyance  to 
Castellamare. 

As  they  approached  the  hotel  they  became 
aware  of  a  gieat  and  unusual  crowd  in  front  of  it. 
The  crowd  reminded  David  very  forcibly  of  that 


176 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


one  which  had  been  raging  there  a  few  days 
before,  and  excited  some  trepidation  in  his  breast. 
Invohmtarily  he  hung  l)ack. 

''  What's  tlio  matter?"  asked  Ludlow. 

"The  mob,"  said  David;  "do — do  you  think 
it's  safe  to  venture  among  them  ?  " 

''  Safe  '!     Pooh  !     why  not  ?  " 

'•  They  appear  to  be  excited.  Hark  !  how  they 
shout." 

"  0,  nonsense  !  These  Italians  are  always  shout- 
ing." 

But  David  still  hesitated,  and  finally  told  Lud- 
low aljout  the  tiouble  with  the  tassel,  and  the  old 
woman,  and  the  nidb,  and  their  escape. 

At  this  story  Ludlow  laughed  heartily,  and  then 
proceeded  to  reassure  David. 

"  Dt)n't  be  alarmed,"  said  he  ;  "  they  won't  re- 
member y(»u.  11'  they  did,  I've  got  something 
that'll  make  them  keep  at  a  respecttul  distance  ;  " 
and  he  touched  his  breast  significantly.  "  A  six- 
shooter,  David,  my  boy,  is  a  very  convenient 
thing  to  carry  alujut  one  in  this  cnuntry,  and  it 
is  surprising  how  the  native  mind  respects  it. 
So  come  along,  and  we  —  that  is,  1  and  my  six- 
shooter'll  —  take  care  of  you.  Don't  be  uneasy. 
They've  got  something  (dse  on  their  minds  now." 

With  these  words  Ludlow  walked  on,  and  David 
followed,  full  of  fear. 

The  crowd  in  front  of  the  hotel  was  in  a  great 
state  of  rage  and  excitement.    Some  were  banging 


David's  fears. 


177 


at  the  door,  others  pounding  against  the  window 
shutters,  which  had  been  closed  \)y  the  terrified 
hmdlord ;  others  were  standing  at  a  distance,  and  try- 
ing to  find  stones  to  throw.  Fortunately  there  were 
no  loose  stones  of  any  size,  few  being  larger  than 
a  pebble,  and  therefore,  as  yet,  no  very  great  dam- 
age had  bo(!n  done.  But  the  crowd  was  evidently 
capable  of  any  amount  of  mischief.  Every  one 
was  howling,  and  yelling;  and  in  the  midst  of  them 
was  an  old  woman,  whose  shouts  and  shrill  cries 
made  her  conspicuous  in  the  scene,  She  was  en- 
couraging and  stimulating  a  number  of  men  who 
were  carrying  a  beam  U>  the  house,  which  they 
evidently  pur})()sed  to  use  as  a  battoring-ram,  so  as 
to  burst  open  the  door. 

The  moment  that  David  caught  sight  of  this 
woman,  he  shuddered,  and  falling  behind  Ludlow, 
caught  at  his  hand,  and  tried  t>)  ]iiill  him  back, 
Ludlow  turned  in  sur{)rise, 

'*  It's  the  same  woman,"  said  David,  in  nn 
agitated  voice,  "  who  chased  nic" 

"Is  it?"  said  Ludlow,  with  a  .smile.  "  O,  well, 
you've  got  me  with  you  now.  So  be  a  man  — 
cheer  uj),  my   boy.      It's  ;dl    right." 

Saying  this,  liUcllow  again  walkeil  forward,  this 
time  keeping  his  left  hand  on  David's  arm.  David 
felt  that  it  was  not  ''all  right,"  but  he  had  to  fol- 
low fiudlow,  and  so  he  folhtwed  him  into  the 
midst  of  the  crowd.  Working  their  way  on 
through  the  people,  they  at  last  came  near  to  the 
12 


178 


AMONG    THE    BRKiANDS. 


door,  and  found  themselves  close  hy  i]\o  men  avIio 
were  ciirrying  the  beam.  Thev  liiid  In  id  it  on  the 
ground,  and  were  hesitating  i'or  a  moment.  Over- 
head Ludlow  heard  the  voice  ol'the  laudloid  plead- 
ing with  them  in  piteous  tones. 

"  O,  good  citizens!  O,  dear  citizens!  Don't 
destroy  my  furniture  !  Don't  ruin  me!  There  is 
a  mistake.  On  my  honor,  the  strangers  are  in- 
nocent." 

At  this  the  old  virago  howled  f»ut  some  insane 
maledictions,  and  urged  the  crowd  on.  Home  on 
the  outskirts  yelled,  and  the  old  hag,  whirling 
around  in  the  midst  of  her  tirade,  found  herself 
face  to  lace  with  Djivid.  The  terrified  lad  shrank 
back,  and  tried  to  hide  himself;  but  the  old  woman 
recognized  him  at  once,  and  with  a  howl  sprang 
at  him. 

Ludlow  saw  tlie  movement. 

He  put  liimself  in  front  of  David,  and,  seizing  the 
old  woman's  arm  in  a  grasp  like  a  vice,  held  her 
back,  and  asked  her  sternly,  in  Italian, — 

"  Accursed  one  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  O,  citizens  ol  •'^orrento ! "  shrieked  the  hag. 
"  0,  pious  citizens  !  rTel|) !  This  is  the  accursed 
boy  !  This  is  the  sacrilegious  one  !  the  blasphemer  ! 
the  insulter  of  the  Bambino  !  the  —  " 

"Silence!"  roared  Lu.Ilow,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der. "  Men  of  Sorrento,  is  this  the  M'ay  you  treat 
strangers  ?   Does  this  mad  thing  govern  the  city  ?  " 

"  The  boy,  the  boy  !  the   blasphemer  1  tho  sao- 


i 


F 


THE    MOB    AT   SOKRKNTO. 


119 


I 


rilegious  !  the  accursod  !"  slirioked  the  hit;x.  And 
at  hiT  yells  some  of  tii(!  nu)h  seemed  iiielinod  to 
respf)nd.  They  were  already  ripe  for  misehiel",  and 
when  the  hafj^  diverted  their  attention  to  David, 
th(;y  felt  ([uite  ready  to  take  him  in  liand.  So 
now  u  rini,^  of  dark  fiice-;  was  formed  around  Lud- 
low, and  the  yells  of  the  haj;  directed  them  to 
Boi/e   David. 

Ludlow  |MisIie(l  the  hag  from  him,  drew  his 
revolver  from  hi.s  breast,  and  took  two  strides 
towards  the  house,  whieli  was  closo  liy,  dragging 
David  after  him.  Then  he  put  his  back  against 
the  wall,  and  ladding  the  revolver  in  an  ap- 
parently careless  manner,  with  it3  mw/.'/Ao  turned 
towards  the  crowd,  he  once  more  opened  his 
mouth. 

"  Men  of  Sorrento ! "  said  ho,  "  what  foolery  is 
this?  Tlie  Woman  is  mad.  I  liavo  just  come  from 
Capri,  with  this  boy.  Many  of  yon  know  mo,  for  I 
am  often  here  :  and  now.  when  I  come,  am  I  to 
bo  insulted  by  a  mad  woman?     Arc  you  —  " 

"  Si'i/.c  him  !  seize  the  boy  !  the  boy  1  the  bias* 
pheuKM- !  ''  yelled  the  hag. 

Ludlow  placed  his  hand  on  David's  head,  and 
looked  with  a  smile  on  the  crowd  nearest. 

'•  |)oes  her  madness  usually  take  this  form,  gei> 
tlenien  ?  ■'  he  add.'tl  ;  "  (hies  she  usually  show  this 
animosity  to  little  boys  and  children?" 

At  this  (juestion,  which  was  a^ked  in  an  easj 
and  uat»iral  manner,  the   crowd   looked  abashed. 


180 


AMOXG    THE    URIGANDS. 


They  bef:j;aii  to  tliink  tliat  the  woinaTi  was  crazy. 
Those  to  whom  Ludlow  had  y])oken  were  the  very 
men  who  had  brought  the  beam  but  a  lew  min- 
utes before.  They  now  edged  slowly  away,  and 
began  to  think  that  they  had  done  a  very  silly 
thing. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  signori  ?  "'  asked  Lud- 
low, in  the  same  easy  tone,  of  those  who  were 
nearest. 

"  Well,  they  say  there  are  some  people  inside 
that  desecrated  the  clmrch  —  some  boys  —  " 

"  What  —  boys  ?  "  said  Ludlow,  with  a  smile. 
"  Who  says  so  ?  " 

The  men  shrugged  their  shoulders. 

"  She  says  so." 

Ludlow  thereupon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Seize  him  !  seize  him  !  seize  him  !  "  yelled  the 
hag,  who  all  this  time  had  kept  up  her  insane 
outcry. 

"  Somebody  had  better  seize  /n^r,"  said  Ludlow, 
with  a  laugh.  "  Why,  gentlemen,  she  will  give 
your  town  a  very  bad  name." 

The  crowd  nearest  had  already  undergone  a 
revulsion  of  feeling.  The  assault  of  the  old  wo- 
man on  two  harmless  strangers  seemed  too  wanton 
to  be  tolerated,  liudlow's  easy  manner  and  calm 
language  restored  them  i'ully  to  their  senses,  and 
the  sight  of  his  revolver  etrectually  overawed  the 
more  excitable  or  reckless.  They  were  also  jealous 
of  the  good  name  of  the  town,  and  now  began  to 


THE   VIRAGO    DRIVEN   OFF. 


181 


bt'  (Miraged  with  t\u-  old  vvomaii.  A  imirinur  passed 
tlirou^li  them.  Curses  were  freely  lavished  upon 
her,  and  the  threats  which  l)ut  a  short  tiiiio  ago 
had  been  directed  against  the  landlord  and  his 
guests,  were  now  hurled  at  her.  'I'lie  hug,  how- 
ever, in  her  fury,  was  quite  unconscious  of  all  this, 
and  continued  to  yell  as  before,  endeavoring  to 
honnd  them  on  against  David.  But  the  crowd 
was  now  disgust(>d  with  her  and  her  yells. 

"  Stop  your  diabolical  yells  !  "  cried  an  angry 
voice.  "  Go  home,  and  stay  home,  or  you'll  have 
a  strait  jacket  put  on  you." 

The  hag  stopped  short,  as  though  thunderstrnck, 
and  looked  around  with  staring  eyes.  It  w^as  a 
young  man  who  thus  addressed  her;  he  waa 
grasping  her  arm  and  looking  savagely  at  lier. 
Evidently  he  was  some  relative,  of  whom  she 
stood  in  awe,  for  with  something  like  a  gasp  she 
seemed  to  shrink  into  herself,  and  then,  gathering 
her  clothes  about  her,  slunk  away  through  the 
crowd. 

Ludlow  had  often  been  at  Sorrento  before,  and 
saw  some  I'amiHar  faces  among  the  people.  These 
ho  accosted,  and  soon  found  out  what  the  trouble 
was.  Although  some  of  these  very  men  had  been 
howling  like  maniacs  a  short  time  before,  yet  they 
now  were  as  (juiet,  and  gentle,  and  amial>le  as 
lambs.  They  sneered  at  the  old  hag,  deplored 
the  excitement,  and  assured  him  that  no  harm  had 
been  done. 


■■fl 


182 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Soon  the  crowd  dispersed,  and  tlio  landlord, 
who  had  been  watching  the  scene  in  deep  anx- 
iety, came  down,  opened  the  doors,  and  gave  Lud- 
low and  David  a  most  eager,  exuberant,  and  en- 
thusiastic welcome. 


MORE   TROUBLES   FOR    POOR    DAVID. 


183 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


More  Troubles  for  poor  David.  —  Onset  of  four  Women.  — 
Seized  by  an  old  Crone  and  three  Peasant  Girls.  —  Fresh 
Horror  of  David.  —  A  neiu  Uproar  in  the  Yard  of  the 
Inn.  —  Uncle  Moses  bent  double. 

t 
''ip:    UDLOW  be^rjin  to  talk  to  the  landlord  about 

itT^'  a  conveyance  to  Castellainare,  and  David 
^p"'^  walked  tliroui:;!!  the  lionsu  into  the  yard, 
David's  only  desire  now  was  to  hurry  on  and  join 
his  friends  as  soon  as  jiossihle.  lie  had  not  the 
remotest  idea  that  they  were  in  Sorrento,  and  that 
the  trouble  had  arisen  about  them,  but  fancied 
that  they  weiu;  in  Castellamare,  full  of  anxiety 
aliout  him.  Sympathiziiifj^  with  their  anxiety,  ho 
longed  to  go  to  them,  so  as  to  put  an  end  to  it ; 
and  seeing  a  carriage  in  the  yard,  he  naturally 
walked  in  that  direction.  Reaching,  the  yard  he 
noticed  that  the  lu)rses  were  in  it,  and  that  it  was 
a  l).irouci.e,  like  the  one  in  which  his  party  liad 
beei'  travelling.  Not  for  one  moment  did  he  sup- 
pose tl'.at  it  was  the  same  one,  nor  did  he  notice 
it  very  closely  ;  but  giving  it  a  careless  glance, 
he  looked  around  to  see  those  to  whom  it  be- 
longed. 


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184 


AMOXi;    THK   KKKJANns. 


As  David  went  out  into  the  yard,  the  driver  had 
just  gone  into  the  barn  to  tell  Uncle  Mosea  and  the 
boys  that  the  trouble  was  over  and  the  crowd  was 
dispersing.  Ti.eir  joy  may  be  imagined.  They 
were  just  hastening  from  the  barn  to  return  to  the 
hotel,  and  had  just  reached  the  barn  door  when 
David  approached. 

David  was  walking  along  towards  the  barn, 
looking  around  to  see  where  the  people  were, 
when  suddenly  he  heard  a  wild  cry,  and  saw  a 
figure  rush  straight  towards  him.  It  was  a  wo- 
man's figure,  and  she  appeared  quite  old.  Like 
lightning,  the  thought  flashed  through  him  that 
this  was  his  old  tormentor,  the  hag ;  and  with  a 
gasp  he  started  back,  and  was  about  to  run.  But 
the  other  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  David  felt 
himself  seized  by  his  dreaded  enemy.  This 
dreaded  enemy  tlien  behaved  in  a  frantic  way, 
hugging  him  and  uttering  inarticulate  words.  Da- 
vid struggled  to  get  free  from  her,  and  throwing  a 
frightened  glance  at  her  i'ace,  which  was  but  part- 
ly visible,  beneath  a  very  shabby  bonnet,  he  saw 
that  she  was  quite  old,  and  that  tears  were  stream- 
ing down  fiom  her  eyes.  Tliis  frightened  David  all 
the  more,  for  now  he  was  sure  that  she  was  insane. 

But  now,  to  David's  horror,  he  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  throe  more  women,  in  coarse  dresses 
and  horribly  shabby  bonnets.  They  all  made  a 
simultaneous  rush  at  him,  seizing  his  hands  and 
arms,  and  seemed  about  to  tear  him  to  pieces.     In 


ONSET   OP   FOUR   WOMEN. 


185 


vain  he  struggled.  He  was  helpless.  A  cold 
shudder  passed  through  him,  and  a  thrill  of  horror 
tingled  every  nerve. 

All  this  had  been  the  work  of  an  "ustant.  So 
sudden  had  been  the  onset,  and  so  overwhelmed 
was  David  with  utter  horror,  that  lie  could  not 
even  scream  for  help.  But  at  last  he  got  his  mouth 
open,  and  was  just  about  to  give  one  piercing 
yell  for  help,  when  the  words  were  taken  out  of 
his  mouth,  and  his  voice  stopped,  and  a  new  and 
greater  sur{)rise  created  within  him. 

"  David  !  David  !  My  boy  !  my  boy  ! "  moaned 
the  first  old  woman. 

"Dave!  You  rascal!  What  do  you  mean  by 
this  ?  "  cried  woman  Number  Two. 

"  Dave  !  Old  bov  !  What  in  the  world  is  the 
meam'ng  of  this  ?  "  cried  woman  Number  Three. 

"  Dave  !  How  did  you  find  us?"  cried  woman 
Number  Four. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  "Where  did  you 
come  from  ?  "  "  When  did  you  get  here  ?  "  "  What 
made  you  go  off?  "  "  Did  they  seize  you  ?  "  *'  Was 
it  the  old  woman  that  did  it?"  These  questions, 
and  scores  of  others,  tame  pouring  forth  into  In'^ 
astonished  ears.  As  for  David,  he  could  not  uttor 
one  single  word.  At  length  the  yearning  allec- 
tion  of  Uncle  Moses  seemed  to  be  satiated,  and 
the  boisterous  greetings  of  the  boys  exhausted, 
and  one  by  one  they  released  their  grasp,  and  al- 
lowed David  to  extricate  himself. 


186 


AMONG    THK    URKiANDS. 


Tliereupon  David  stood  ofF  at  a  little  distance, 
and  gazed  at  them  in  mute  amazement.  The  wight 
which  tliey  presented  to  his  astonished  eyes  wa8 
one  which  might  have  excited  strong  emotions  in 
tl»e  l)reast  of  any  beholder. 

There  stood  Uncle  Moses,  his  figure  conceoled 
under  a  tattered  gown,  and  his  venerable  head  en- 
folded in  a  battered  bonnet  of"  primeval  styh;. 

There  stood  Frank,  looking  like  a  strapping 
peasant  woman,  with  a  bonnet  that  was  stuck  on 
tlie  top  of  his  head  like  a  man's  hat. 

There  stood  Clive,  looking  like  a  pretty  peasant 
girl,  quite  Italian  in  his  style,  with  a  dress  that 
was  a  trille  neater  than  the  others. 

And  there  was  Bob,  an  utter  and  unmitigated 
absurdity,  —  with  a  dress  that  was  tangled  about 
his  legs,  and  a  boiniet  that  had  no  crown.  The 
four  of  them  looked  more  like  escaped  lunatics 
than  anything  else,  and  no  sooner  had  David  taken 
in  the  whole  scene,  than  he  burst  forth  into  a  per- 
fect convulsion  of  laughter. 

Thus  far  the  disguise  had  possessed  nothing  but 
a  serious  character  in  the  minds  of  the  wearers. 
By  means  of  this  disguise  they  had  hoped  to  es- 
cape, and  the  costumes,  being  thus  a  help  to  safety, 
had  been  dignified  in  their  eyes.  But  now,  when 
the  danger  was  over,  and  safety  assured,  there 
was  nothing  to  hide  from  their  eyes  the  unutter- 
able absurdity,  t'lo  inconceival)le  ludicrousness  of 
their  appearance.     As  David's  laugh  burst  forth, 


UPROAU   IN   THE    YARD    OF   THE   INN. 


187 


each  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  other,  and  saw  how 
it  was. 

Then  tliey  all  burst  fortii !  It  was  a  cataclysm 
of  laughter.  The  boys  swayed  backward  and  for- 
ward, and  danced  up  and  down,  and  shouted,  and 
yelled  with  laugliter.  Uncle  Moseri  stood  with  his 
eyes  shut  and  his  figure  bent  double.  Frank  stared 
at  each  one  in  succession,  and  then  at  himself, 
giving  a  scream  at  eacli  figure.  Clive  laughed 
till  he  sank  down;  and  Bob,  flinging  himself  upon 
the  ground  in  a  perfect  {)aroxysni,  rolled  over  and 
over,  and  kicked,  and  yelled,  and  fairly  howled  in 
one  prolonged  and  uproarious  cachinnation. 

The  uproar  aroused  the  house. 

The  driver  hurried  out  of  the  barn  and  joined 
in  the  roar. 

The  hostler  followed  him. 

The  servants  came  from  the  hotel,  and  lent  their 
voices. 

The  landlord  came  out,  and  was  at  once  seized 
with  a  convulsion. 

After  the  landlord  came  Ludlow.  He  didn't  al- 
together understand  it ;  but  he  saw  David,  and  ho 
saw  the  four  figures;  and  from  what  the  landlord 
had  been  telling  him,  he  knew  who  they  were. 
The  sight  overwhelmed  him.  He  opened  his 
mouth.  He  burst  forth.  It  was  tremendous.  It 
was  Olympian.  It  was  the  laughter  of  Homer's 
immortals.  It  was  a  thunder-peal.  It  was  too 
much.     He  could  not  keep  his  feet,  but  sank  down 


188 


AMOXO   THE   HKI(;AXDS. 


on  the  stone  steps,  iind  burying  his  face  in  his 
hands,  gave  way  utterly. 

Thus  it  was,  tlien,  that  David,  the  most  solemn 
of  boys,  returned  to  his  distracted  and  anxious 
friends. 

At  length  the  laughter  ceased,  and  the  costumes 
were  set  aside,  and  they  all  sat  in  the  dining-room, 
asking  and  giving  explanations.  David  had  to  tell 
the  story  of  his  adventures.  The  boys  had  to  tell 
about  their  search  after  him,  and  Ludlow  had  to 
tell  the  story  of  his  meeting  with  David  at  Capri. 
These  mutual  explanations  had  nothing  in  them 
but  what  was  pleasant,  so  that  there  was  nothing 
to  detract  from  the  joy  of  the  occasion. 

And  now  Ludlow,  finding  the  friends  so  happily 
reunited,  pressed  them  all  to  come  over  to  Capri 
at  once,  and  stay  as  long  as  they  felt  inclined  to. 
David's  eyes  sparkled  at  this,  and  the  other  boys, 
who  had  fallen  in  love  with  Ludlow  at  first  sight, 
were  more  eager  to  go  than  they  could  tell.  But 
Uncle  Moses  demurred.  lie  felt  afraid  of  giv- 
ing trouble,  and  thought  they  had  better  get 
back  to  Naples.  Ludlow,  however,  pooh-poohed  his 
scruples,  answered  every  objection,  an<l  would  not 
take  any  refusal  whatever ;  so  that  the  result  was, 
the  final  departure  of  the  party  for  Capri. 

But  before  they  went,  several  things  had  to  be 
attended  to.  First  of  all,  they  had  to  dismiss  the 
driver.  With  the  exception  of  his  sulk  at  Pses- 
tum,  he  had  behaved  admirably,  and  had  been  of 


VIHIT  TO  rAPin. 


189 


immense  service  to  them  in  more  than  one  hour 
of  need.  The  consequence  was,  that  Uncle  Moso,-< 
gave  him  a  reward  so  liberal  that  it  elicited  an 
outburst  of  benedictions,  thanks,  and  prayers  for 
the  future  widfare  of  the  whole  party. 

The  other  businesjs  was  to  see  about  the  return 
of  the  boat  which  David  liad  taken.  This,  how- 
ever, was  arranged  without  difficulty.  Ludlow 
!new  an  honest  fisherman  who  could  be  intrusted 
\\  th  the  task  of  returning  the  bi)at,  and  making 
explanations  to  the  owner.  By  this  man  they  sent 
a  sufficient  sum  to  repay  the  owner  for  the  use 
of  it. 

They  engaged  another  boat  to  take  them  to 
Capri.  A  gentle  breeze  wafted  them  over  the  in- 
tervening water,  and  they  soon  stood  before  the 
artist's  picturesque  abode.  Mrs.  Ludlow  received 
them  all  with  her  brightest  smile  and  warmest 
cordiality,  and  the  boys  soon  began  to  feel  to- 
wards the  artist  and  his  wife  as  though  they  were 
near  and  dear  relations.  They  found  the  artist's 
cottage  a  perfect  storehouse  of  curiosities,  and  a 
museum  of  antiquities ;  they  found  also  that  it 
was  ^f  large  dimensions,  and  contained  sufHcient 
accommodations  for  the  party  ;  and  thus  they  were 
able  to  feel  that  they  were  not  a  burden  in  any 
way  on  their  warm-hearted  friends. 

Ludlow  LOok  them  all  over  the  island,  and  showed 
them  all  that  was  to  be  seen.  Tie  was  not  only  an 
enthusiastic  artist,  but  also  an  antiquarian  of  no 


190 


AMONG  THE   BRIGANDS. 


mean  attainmonts ;  and  while  ho  could  j>nint  ont 
to  them  the  most  beautiful  spots  on  that  lovely- 
isle,  he  could  also  talk  learnedly  about  the  ancient 
Caprrea,  and  raise  out  of  ancient  ruins  theories 
about  the  pleasure-grounds  of  Tiberius. 

But  the  most  wonderful  thing  which  they  found 
there  was  the  famous  grotto,  so  familiar  to  all 
from  the  accounts  of  tourists,  and  from  the  well- 
known  description  in  Hans  Andersen's  Imytrovisa- 
tore.  After  that  glowing,  poetic,  and  e-ithusias- 
tic  narrative,  no  other  need  be  attempted.  Here 
they  passed  three  or  four  days,  and  when  at  length 
they  bade  adieu  to  the  artist  and  his  wife,  it  was 
with  many  sincere  regrets  on  both  sides,  and  many 
earnest  wishes  that  they  might  meet  again. 

After  which  they  ill  went  back  to  Naples. 


VESUVIUS. 


191 


CHAPTER  XV n. 


Vt'siivius.  —  Ponies  and  Sticks.  —  Sand  and  Lava.  —  The 
rocky  Steps.  —  T/tc  rollin;^,  wrathful  .Sniokc-chuds.  — 
The  I  'olcano  warns  them  off.  —  The  lost  Boy.  —  A  fear- 
ful Search.  —  A  despe^cte  Effort.  —  The  sulphurous 
Vapors.  —  Over  the  slidinjr  Sands. 


'^if*lYlEi  siglit  of  Vesuvius  from  a  distance  had 

f  filled  David  with  an  ardent  desire  to  visit 
it,  and  all  the  rest  shared  this  feelinp^. 
Vesuvius  was  before  them  always.  The  great 
cloud  of  dense,  black  smoke,  which  hung  over  it 
like  a  pall,  was  greater,  and  denser,  and  blacker 
than  usual.  Tiie  crater  was  disturlied.  There 
were  rumbling  noises  in  its  wondrous  interior; 
and  all  around  and  all  beneath  the  volcano  gave 
signs  of  an  approaching  eruption.  Sometimes  the 
smoke,  as  it  ascended  from  the  crater,  would  tower 
up  in  the  air  lor  thousands  of  feet,  for  into  the  sky, 
a  black  pillar,  which  at  the  summit  spread  out  on 
all  sides,  giving  to  the  spectator  the  vision  of  a 
colossal  palm  tree  —  the  shape  and  the  sign  which 
is  the  inevitable  forerunner  of  an  approaching 
eruption.  At  other  times  the  sulphur-laden  clouds 
would  hang  low  over  the  crest  of  the  mountain, 


192 


AMON(J    Tin:    HHUJANOS, 


and  roll  far  (town  its  sides,  and  envelop  it  in  its 
dense,  hhick,  voluminous  I'olds. 

As  yet,  in  spite  of  these  ap{)earanccs,  the  ascent 
might  be  made  in  safety,  though  every  day  less- 
ened the  ehaJices  of  an  ascent  hy  increasing  the 
danger.  This  they  learned  from  Michael  Angelo, 
their  guide,  whom  they  had  engaged  to  make  the 
ascent;  so  they  determined  to  go  without  any 
further  delay.  Accordingly,  two  days  after  their 
excursion  to  Baiie,  they  set  out,  going  first  to 
Portici,  whore  they  hired  ponies  to  take  them  to 
the  foot  of  the  cone  ;  each  one  supplied  himself 
with  a  good  stout  stick  to  assist  his  ascent,  and 
Michael  Angelo  went  with  them  as  general  man- 
ager of  the  expedition. 

On  riding  up  they  found  the  road  good  at  first, 
but  soon  it  became  somewhat  rough.  It  left  the 
fertile  meadows  and  vineyards  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain,  and  ran  over  a  wild,  rocky  country, 
which  looked,  as  Uncle  Moses  said,  like  the 
"abomination  of  desolation."  No  verdure  ap- 
peared, no  houses,  no  flocks,  and  herds  —  all  was 
wild,  and  savage,  and  dismal.  After  passing  over 
these  lava  fields,  the  party  reached  what  is  called 
the  "Hermitage"  —  a  kind  of  refreshment  station 
near  the  foot  of  the  cone.  Resting  here,  for  a  little 
way  they  proceeded  on  foot.  The  path  was  now 
rugged  and  difficult,  and  ascended  at  so  steep  an 
angle  that  it  became  rather  climbing  than  walking. 
After  a  toilsome  walk  this  path  ended  at  the  foot 
of  the  cone. 


VESUVIUS. 


193 


Hero  the  mountain  arose  grandly  hoforo  thoro, 
with  its  Hinokt'-cloiul  ovorlianginjzj  its  stct^p  si(i  jh. 
ascending  from  where  they  stood  to  where  tiie 
view  was  lost  in  smoke.  At  one  part  therci  was  a 
snrfaeo  of  U)ose  sand,  and  at  another  wild,  dis- 
ordered hea|)s  of  cruinhled  lava  blocdcs.  Over 
these  last  Michael  Angelo  led  them,  for  these 
blocks  formed  stepping-stones  by  which  to  make 
the  ascent.  A  numbiir  of  men  were  here  with 
chairs  and  i  traps,  who  olTered  them  assistance ; 
but  they  all  dticlined,  even  Uncle  Moses  choosing 
to  rely  on  his  unassisted  nniscle. 

Then  thoy  began  the  ascent  of  the  cone.  The 
lava  blocks  were  of  all  sizes,  and  lay  strewn  loosely 
down  the  steep  side.  It  was  like  ascentling  a 
long,  rough  stairway,  where  all  the  steps  are 
irregular.  It  was  laborious  and  tedious.  Often 
they  had  to  stop  and  rest.  Uncle  Moses  felt  it 
most,  and  the  boys  had  frequently  to  stop  rather 
on  his  account.  But  when  they  had  traversed 
about  two  thirds  of  the  way,  they  began  to  grow 
more  excited,  and  in  Bob  this  excitement  was 
most  evident.  Thinking  that  the  others  would 
take  sufficient  care  of  Uncle  Moses,  he  started  off 
alone,  and  soon  was  far  up,  clambering  over  the 
rocks  like  a  young  chamois. 

Usually  there  is  one  side  of  the  crater  which  is 
accessible.  There  is  almost  always  some  wind 
which  blows  the  smoke  away,  and  on  the  wind- 
ward side  the  visitor  can  stand  and  breathe  freely. 
13 


104 


AMOXn    THE    URK^WnS, 


On  tlie  prosont  oecHHion,  liowt^vcr,  tlicio  was  little 
or  no  wind  ;  aiwi  tlu*  smoke,  which  wmh  far  denser 
than  usuiil,  gathered  in  thick,  Mack  lolds,  ami 
Bometimes  rulled  down  the  sides  of  the  coiio,  and 
hid  ti)e  crest  from  view.  Michaid  Aiijrelo  ex- 
prcpsed  a  fear  that  they  wonhl  not  l»e  aide  to 
reach  the  crest ;  and  as  they  drew  nearer,  every 
step  showe  "  that  this  fear  was  well  Ibniided.  At 
last,  when  thev  were  within  easy  distance  of  it, 
there  came  rolling  down  a  cloud  of  smoke,  so 
dense  and  so  full  of  sulphurous  vapor  that  they 
all  had  to  stop  and  cover  their  faces  with  their 
clothes. 

It  was  now  evident  that  they  could  go  no  farther. 
They  waited  for  a  time  in  great  distress  from  the 
nmoke.  It  rolled  away  at  last,  yet  still  hovered 
near  them,  every  little  while  moving  threateningly 
down,  as  though  to  drive  them  back,  and  ])revent 
the  crater  from  desecration  by  human  footsteps. 
They  had  evidently  reached  their  farthest  limit, 
and  could  go  no  farther. 

But  where  was  Bob  ? 

Scarcely  had  they  discovered  the  impossibility 
of  going  farther  than  this  thought  came  to  them. 
Where  was  Bob?  He  had  left  them  some  time 
previously,  and  had  gone  far  ahead  of  them.  They 
had  expected  every  moment  to  come  up  with  him. 
But  there  were  no  signs  of  him  anywhere. 

Frank  called  out  with  all  his  strength.  David 
and  Clive  joined  in  the  cry. 


THE  LOST  BOY. 


195 


There  was  no  response. 

Fear  camo  to  thorn  —  a  sickening,  awful  fear. 
All  shouted  -  the  boys,  Uncle  Moses,  and  Michael 
Angolo. 

Still  there  was  no  response. 

Again,  and  again,  and  yet  again,  they  called, 
by  this  time  in  an  agony  of  approhensi'a,  but  to 
all  these  cries  the  surrounding  stillness  ga'.o  forth 
not  one  answering  sound. 

An<l  the  deej),  dark,  wrathful  8moke-cl"uds  rolled 
around,  and  aIiov(',and  downward,  UKjviiig  close  to 
thein,  and  over  them,  as  though  eager  to  involve 
them  in  that  dread  fate  which  they  feared  had 
overwhelmed  the  lost  boy. 

"  1  can't  stand  this  any  longer  ! "  c'ed  Frank,  at 
last,     "  I'll  go  and  hunt  him  up." 

"  We'll  all  go, '  said  David. 

"  Wait,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  as  the  boys  were 
starting,  "  We  must  hunt  him  up  as  we  do  in  the 
woods.  We  can't  tell  where  ho  is.  Let's  form  a 
line,  an  walk  as  nigh  abreast  of  one  another  as  wo 
can  get,  an  yet  far  enough  away  to  cover  tho 
ground.  In  that  way  we'll  be  more  likely  to  find 
him." 

At  this  the  party  formed  themselves  in  a  line,  so 
that  about  twenty  or  thirty  feet  intervened  be- 
tween each.  The  five  thus  extended  for  a  long 
distance.  Michael  Angelo  was  at  the  extreme  right, 
next  to  him  was  Uncle  Moses,  then  Clive,  then 
David,  while  Frank  was  on  the  extreme  left.    In 


196 


AMONG   THE   BRIOANDS. 


this  way  they  determined  to  go  as  far  forward 
as  the  smoke  wouhl  permit.  Tiie  prospect  was 
gloomy  enough;  but  the  situation  of  Bob  nerved 
them  all  to  the  effort.  Besides,  they  were  en- 
couraged by  the  fact  that  the  smoke  would  some- 
times retreat  far  up,  exposing  the  surface  to  the 
very  crest  of  the  crater.  So  they  advanced,  clam- 
bering over  the  rough  blocks,  and  drew  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  summit.  At  length  a  heavy 
mass  of  black  smoke  came  rolling  down.  It 
touched  them.  It  enveloped  them.  It  folded 
itself  over  them  and  under  them.  P^ach  one  fell 
flat  on  his  face  at  Michael  Angelo's  warning,  and 
covered  his  mouth  and  nostrils  with  his  handker- 
chief, so  as  to  kee])  out  the  sulphurous  vapors.  It 
was  almost  suffocating  ;  breathing  was  dillieult  and 
painful,  and  it  seemed  a  long  time  before  the 
blackness  of  the  darkness  was  mitigated.  But  at 
last  the  smoke  withdrew  itself,  and  the  whole 
party  stood  up,  and  looked  around  painfully  for 
one  another,  panting  heavily,  and  drawing  labo- 
rious lireaths, 

"  You  can't  go  any  further,"  said  Uncle  Moses. 
"  I  ain't  goin  to  let  you  resk  your  lives,  boys. 
You  must  all  go  back,  an  I'll  go  for'ard." 

"  No,  uncle  ;  I'll  go,"  cried  Frank. 

"  A'(d  I,'*  cried  David. 

"  And  I,"  cried  Clive. 

"  None  of  you  shall  go,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  firm- 
ly.    "  I  tell  you  I'm  goin.     I  order  you  to  stay 


A    FEARFUL    SEARCH. 


197 


here,  or  go  bark."  Uncle  Moses  was  deeply 
agitated,  and  spoke  with  unaccustomed  sternness. 
'*  Go  back,"  he  said  ;  "  I'll  find  Rob,  or  leave  myself 
there.     (Jo  l)ack.     D'ye  hear?" 

He  darted  ibrward,  and  turned  to  wave  his 
hand  at  the  boys.  But  Frank  had  already  sprung 
upward,  swiftly  and  eagerly.  Onward  ho  went, 
going  iirst  to  the  left  and  then  to  the  right. 
David  and  Clive  also  ruslicd  forward.  Uncle 
Moses  toiled  after  them,  calling  on  them  to  come 
back  Michael  Angelo  followed  slowly,  looking  on 
with  a  face  of  fearful  apprehension. 

Frank  was  far  ahead.  He  had  come  to  a  place 
where  the  lava  blocks  ended,  and  the  soil  was 
sandy.  Here  he  paused  for  sin  instant,  and  took  a 
swift  glance  around.  He  started.  Ho  had  seen 
something.  He  made  a  quick  gesture,  and  then 
sjjrang  away  to  the  right. 

All  this  had  not  taken  many  minutes.  It  was  an 
act  of  desperation  on  the  part  of  Frank,  but  he 
was  determined  to  save  Bob  or  perish.  Fortunate- 
ly the  smoke  diil  not  descend  just  at  that  moment, 
but  was  floating  up  froin  the  sum'  '' ,  so  that  the 
edge  of  the  crater  could  be  seen,  with  a  dull 
yellow  gleam,  caused  by  the  sulphur  that  lay 
mingled  with  the  sand. 

l<\auk  had  seen  a  prostrate  figure.  It  lay  on 
the  sand  beyond  the  edge  of  the  lava  blocks.  His 
first  feeling  was  one  of  surprise  that  Bob  had  suc- 
ceeded in  penetrating  so  far ;  his  next  was  one  of 


198 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


horror  for  fear  tliat  he  might  be  beyond  the  reach 
of  help.  With  frantic  haste  he  rushed  towards 
him,  and  reaching  the  spot,  he  raised  Bob  in 
his  arms. 

He  was  senseh^ss  ! 

And  now,  as  Frank  stood  there,  close  to  the 
perilous  edge,  the  treacherous  smoke,  which  had 
thus  far  held  back,  rolled  down  once  more.  To 
face  it  was  impossible.  Frank  Hung  himself  down, 
and  buried  his  face  as  before,  looking  up  from 
time  to  time  to  see  if  the  smoke  was  lessoning. 
The  time  seemed  protracted  to  a  i'earful  length. 
The  dense  fumes  which  penetrated  through  the 
thick  folds  of  the  clothes  which  he  held  over  his 
mouth  nearly  suffocated  him.  He  began  to  think 
that  he,  too,  was  doomed. 

And  where  were  the  others? 

Scattered,  a{)art  from  one  another  —  and  thus 
they  had  been  caught  by  the  rolling  smoke.  They 
could  do  only  one  thing,  and  that  was  what  they 
had  done  before.  Uncle  Moses  alone  refused  to 
yield.  He  tried  to  toil  on  so  as  to  get  nearer  to 
his  boys.  He  had  a  vague  idea  of  getting  near  to 
Frank,  so  as  to  die  by  his  side.  But  physical  pain 
was  stronger  than  the  determination  of  his  soul, 
and  at  length  he  involuntarily  flung  himself  down, 
and  covered  his  face. 

But  at  last  even  that  ordeal  was  passed.  The 
smoke  lifted.  It  rolled  away.  There  was  air 
again  for  them  to  breathe.     Frank  roused  himself 


THE   SLIDING   SANDS. 


199 


before  the  smoke  had  all  passed,  and  lifting  Bob 
in  his  arms,  carried  him  swiftly  downward.  He 
reached  the  place  where  Uncle  Moses  was  stand- 
ing, gasping  for  breath ;  and  the  other  boys  who 
had  seen  him  hurried  towards  him,  and  tried  to 
help  him  carry  his  senseless  burden.  Uncle  Mo- 
ses also  tried  to  take  Bob  in  his  own  arms,  and 
prayed  Frank,  wnth  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  let  him 
carry  him;  but  Frank  refused  them  all,  and  in- 
sisted on  doing  it  himself  A  few  paces  more, 
however,  over  the  lava  blocks,  showed  that  Frank's 
strengtii  would  not  be  suflicicnt  for  such  a  journey. 
He  sank  down  exhausted  by  his  excessive  exer- 
tions, iind  waited  a  few  moments  to  take  breath. 

While  he  was  thus  recovering  his  breath, 
Michael  Angelo  reached  the  spot,  and  explained 
that  there  was  another  plaf'(>  of  descent  not  far  off, 
and  led  the  way  towards  it.  Here  they  found 
the  side  of  the  cone  all  covered  with  loose  sand. 
Down  this  they  went.  At  every  step  they  sank  in 
up  to  their  ankles,  and  the  sliding  soil  bore  them 
down,  so  that  for  every  step  they  took  they  were 
carried  the  length  of  two  or  three  steps. 

Frank  clung  to  Bob  till  he  had  got  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  smoke,  and  then  he  I'ell  backward, 
gasping  for  bre.ith.  The  others  scrambled  towards 
him,  eager  to  helj)  him;  and  ilieliael  Angelo,  wlio 
had  exerted  himself  tlio  least  of  all,  and  was 
fresher  than  any  of  them,  raised  Bob  in  his  arms, 
and  said  that  he  would  take  care  of  him  now.     At 


200 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


this  Frank  gave  up  his  precious  burden,  and 
resuming  their  descent,  they  were  soon  at  the  foot 
of  the  cone. 

Here  they  sat  down,  and  Bob  was  hiid  upon  the 
sand.  With  trembhng  hands  they  I'olt  for  his 
heart,  and  found,  to  their  unspeakable  joy,  that  it 
was  still  beating.  There  was  no  water  near  ;  but 
they  chafed  his  feet  and  hands,  and  did  what  they 
could.  For  a  long  time  their  efforts  were  unavail- 
ing; but  at  last  Bob  opened  his  eyes,  and  drawing 
a  long  breath,  looked  around  him  with  a  face  full 
of  astonishment. 

"  What's  —  the  —  matter  ?  "  he  murmured,  in  a 
feeble  voice. 

At  this  tears  of  joy  flowed  into  the  eyes  of  Uncle 
Moses,  and  his  lips  murmured  inaudible  Avords  of 
prayerful  gratitude. 

"  O,  notliing,"  said  Frank,  who  ])y  this  time  had 
completely  recovered  from  his  latigue.  "  Nothing 
of  any  consequence.  Don't  bother.  You'll  be  all 
right  soon." 

Bob  seemed  too  weak  to  say  much,  and  even  to 
think.  lie  lay  there  in  silence,  and  with  an  ex- 
pression of  l)ewilderment  on  his  face,  evidently 
trying  to  eoilect  his  scattered  faculties,  so  as  to 
account  ibr  his  present  situation. 

And  now  the  question  was,  how  to  get  Bob 
home.  The  men  with  chairs  and  straps  hud  gone 
away,  so  that  this  mode  of  ct)nveyance  see;ned 
denied  them.    After  waiting  a  short  time,  however, 


ARRIVAL    AT   THE   HERMITAGE. 


201 


they  saw  a  party  approaching  who  were  evidently 
about  to  try  the  ascent.  They  consisted  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  and  were  accompanied  by  some 
chair  and  strap  men.  Seeing  Bol)  and  his  friends, 
they  made  inquiries;  and  on  leurning  what  had 
happened,  the  ladies  refused  to  make  the  ascent 
on  so  unfavorable  a  day,  but  preferred  postponing 
it  to  a  more  auspicious  time.  Michael  Angelo  there- 
fore was  able  to  obtain  one  of  the  chairs  for  Bob; 
and  setting  him  up^n  it,  they  carried  him  towards 
the  Hermitage,  where  they  arrived  without  any 
further  mishap. 

Here  Bob  grew  rapidly  better,  and  was  able  to 
tell  his  story. 

He  had  felt  very  anxious  to  see  tiie  crate  ^,nd 
equally  anxious  to  see  it  first.  Taking  advantage 
of  a  time  when  the  smoke  had  retreated,  he  had 
made  a  rush,  and  had  just  attained  the  very  edge 
of  the  crater,  when  suddenly  he  found  himself 
overwhelmed  by  a  tremendous  cloud  of  smoke.  To 
resist  it,  or  to  endure  it  in  any  way,  was  impossible. 
He  thought  only  of  flight.  He  turned  nieclianical- 
ly,  and  ran,  with  this  idea  of  flight  alone  in  his 
mind.  That  was  all  lie  remembered.  He  must 
have  run  for  at  least  a  hundred  feet,  for  that  was 
about  the  distance  which  lay  between  the  summit 
and  the  place  where  he  was  found. 

Michael  Angelo  started  off  and  got  a  carriage,  by 
means  of  which  Bob  was  taken  to  Naples.  He  did 
not  seem  to  have  suffered  any  very  serious  injury ; 


202 


AMONG   THE  BRIGANDS. 


but  for  some  days  he  was  quite  languid  and  miser- 
able, and  complained  of  a  taste  of  sulphur  in  his 
mouth;  his  coat,  too,  which  on  going  up  was  of  a 
dark-blue  color,  had  become  quite  faded,  from  the 
action  of  the  powerful  sulphurous  fumes. 

On  the  whole.  Bob,  as  weU  as  the  rest  of  the 
party,  had  ample  reason  to  feel  thankful. 


POMPEII,   THE   CITY   OF   THE   DEAD. 


203 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


Pompeii^  the  City  of  the  Dead.  —  The  Monuments  of  the 
Past.  —  Temples,  Toivcrs,  and  Pa  faces.  —  Tombs  and 
Monuments.  —  Theatres  and  Amphitheatres.  —  Streets 
and  Squares. 

/JVv  FEW  davs  after  their  ascent  of  Vesuvius, 
(»7gg\^  the  whole  party  started  off  to  visit  Pora- 
4^^^  poii.  The  prospect  of  this  journey  gave 
them  unusual  delight,  ^^^b  had  now  completely 
recovered  his  health  and  spirits.  Clive's  poetic 
interest  in  so  renowned  a  place  was  roused  to  tho 
highest  pitch  of  enthusiasm.  David's  classical 
taste  was  stimulated.  Frank's  healthy  love  of 
sight-seeing  was  excited  by  tho  thought  of  a  place 
that  so  far  surpassed  all  others  in  interest ;  and 
Uncle  Moses  evidently  considered  that  this  was 
the  one  thing  in  Euroi)e  M'hich  could  repay  tho 
traveller  for  the  fatigues  of  a  pilgrimage.  Thus 
each,  in  his  own  way,  felt  his  inmost  heart  stirred 
within  him  as  they  ap{)roached  tho  disentombed 
city ;  and  at  length,  when  they  reached  the  en- 
trance to  the  place,  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  ono 
felt  the  strongest  excitement. 

They  found  a  number  of  other  visitors  there, 


204 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


consisting  of  representatives  of  all  nations —  Rus- 
sians, Germans,  Americans,  French,  and  English ; 
ladies,  gentlemen,  and  boys.  Michael  Angelu  was 
with  them,  and  was  more  useful  to  them  than  any 
more  guide-book  could  have  been. 

The  first  emotions  of  awe  which  filled  their 
minds  as  they  entered  the  streets  of  the  mysteri- 
ous city  gradually  faded  away,  and  they  began  to 
examine  everything  with  great  interest.  The  first 
thing  that  struck  their  attention  was  the  extreme 
narrowness  of  the  streets.  There  was  only  room 
for  one  carriage  to  pass  at  a  time.  The  sidewalks 
were  a  foot  higher  than  the  carriage-way.  There 
were  crossing-stones  that  stood  high  above  the  pave- 
ment. The  sidewalks  were  paved  with  brick,  and 
the  carri'lge-way  with  lava  blocks,  which  were  very 
neatly  joined  together.  Clivo  took  a  piece  of  brick 
as  a  relic,  and  David  broke  off  a  fragment  from  one 
of  the  crossing-stones  for  the  same  purpose. 

They  soon  came  to  a  ruined  edifice,  which  Mi- 
chael Angelo  called  the  Basilica.  It  was  tAvo  hun- 
dred feet  in  length,  and  seventy  in  width.  At  one 
end  still  remained  the  Tribunal  or  Seat  of  Justice, 
seven  feet  above  the  pavement ;  and  all  around 
the  walls  were  columns  formed  of  brick,  covered 
with  plaster.  The  boys  picked  off  some  of  the 
plaster  as  relics. 

Leaving  this,  they  went  on  and  came  to  another 
ruined  edifice,  which  Michael  Angelo  called  the 
Temple   of  Venus.     It  was  built  round   a  court- 


THE   MONUMENTS    OF   THE   PAST. 


205 


yard,  with  porticos.  Hero  David  and  Clivc  ob- 
tained some  more  relics. 

Beyond  tliis  was  an  open  square  surrounded  by 
pillars,  of  which  only  tlie  lower  parts  remained. 
This  was  the  Forum  Civile;  and  beyond  this  stood 
the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  which  they  visited  without 
finding  anything  that  was  particularly  interesting. 
After  this  Michael  Angelo  took  thera  to  a  i)lace 
whicii  he  said  was  the  Public  Bakery.  Here  they 
saw  millstones,  ovens,  water-vessels,  and  some 
other  articles  of  which  they  could  not  guess  the 
use.  Not  far  away  were  some  bakers'  shops.  In 
these  shops  loaves  of  bread  Avere  found  1'v  the 
diggers.  Of  course  they  were  burned  to  char- 
coal ;  but  they  retained  their  original  shape,  and 
showed  marks  upon  them  which  were  probably 
intended  to  indicate  the  bakery  from  which  they 
came.     Heaps  of  corn  weie  also  found. 

Going  down  the  street  where  these  were  situ- 
ated, they  came  to  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city. 
Beside  this  was  a  niche  in  the  vail,  used  as  a  sen- 
try-box, upon  which  all  the  party  gazed  with  a 
profound  interest ;  for  in  that  sentry-box  those 
who  disentombed  the  city  found  a  skeleton,  in  the 
armor  and  with  the  equipment  of  a  Roman  soldier. 
Evidently  the  sentry  had  died  at  his  post. 

They  took  a  good  look  at  the  walls  hero,  which 
they  found  to  be  about  twenty-five  feet  high,  and 
formed  of  huge  stones,  that  were  joinea  together 
without  cement.  The  gates  had  evidently  been 
double. 


206 


AMONG  THE   BRIGANDS. 


Passing  through  this  gate,  they  foiind  them- 
selves outside  the  city,  in  what  Michael  Angelo 
called  the  "  Street  of  Tombs."  Looking  down  it, 
they  noticed  a  number  of  edifices  of  a  monunu'utal 
character,  lining  it  on  either  side.  These  wero 
the  tombs  of  wealthy  citizens.  Tiiey  visited  sev- 
eral of  them,  and  found  them  all  alike.  The  inte- 
riors wero  all  simple,  the  walls  being  pierced 
with  niches,  in  which  were  deposited  the  urns  that 
held  the  ashes  of  the  dead.  This  was  the  first 
time  that  they  had  seen  anything  of  this  kind,  and 
they  examined  it  with  deep  and  solemn  interest. 
Here,  too,  Clive  and  David  succeeded  in  finding 
some  relics  in  the  shape  of  some  burnt  fragments 
of  human  bones. 

After  this  Michael  Angelo  led  them  to  what  was 
once  the  finest  mansion  of  the  city,  now  known  as 
the  Villa  of  Diomede.  They  entered  liere,  and 
wandered  through  the  lialls,  and  rooms,  and  court- 
yards. They  saw  rich  mosaic  pavements ;  the 
basins  of  what  once  Avero  fountains  ;  the  lower 
parts  of  marble  pillars  that  once  belonged  to  state- 
ly colonnades.  They  saw  some  rooms  that  once 
had  been  used  for  cold  baths,  and  others  that  had 
been  used  for  '  apor  baths.  Dining-rooms,  recep- 
tion-rooms, bed-rooms,  kitchens,  libraries,  opened 
up  all  around,  and  told  them  of  that  vanished  past 
which  had  once  peopled  all  these  apartments  with 
busy  human  life.  Far  more  than  basilicas,  or  tem- 
ples, or  streets,  or  walla,  were  they  affected  by 


SKELETONS. 


207 


tliiH  glimpse  into  tho  homo  of  a  liousehold ;  and 
thoy  traversed  that  deserted  homo  in  eloquent 
silence.  After  aoiiie;  throujj^h  all  the  house,  thoy 
dosecMidod  into  tho  cellars,  Thcso  were  very  spa- 
cious, !ind  extended  l)oneath  the  entire  villa. 
Here,  at  one  end,  thoy  saw  wluit  is  called  the  Wine 
Cellar,  ^lany  wine  jars  were  standing  there  — 
huge  earthen  vessels,  aa  large  as  a  liogshead,  with 
wide  mouths  and  round  bottoms,  which  made  it 
impossible  lor  them  to  stand  erect,  unless  they 
wore  placed  against  some  support.  In  these  wine 
jars  there  was  now  no  wine,  however,  but  only 
dust  and  ashes. 

Here  Michael  Angelo  had  much  to  tell  them. 

He  told  them  that  several  skeletons  had  been 
found  in  these  vaults,  belonging  to  hapless  wretches 
who  had,  no  doubt,  fled  here  to  escape  the  storm  of 
ashes  which  was  raging  above.  One  of  these  skel- 
etons had  a  bunch  of  keys  in  its  bony  fingers  ;  and 
this  circumstance  led  some  to  suppose  that  it 
was  the  skeleton  of  Diomede  himself;  but  others 
thought  that  it  belonged  to  his  steward.  Whoever 
he  was,  he  had  fled  here  only  to  meet  his  doom, 
and  to  leave  his  bones  as  a  memorial  to  ages  in 
tho  far  distant  future. 

Leaving  this  place,  they  visited  another  house, 
■which  is  called  tlie  Villa  of  Caius  Sallust.  At  one 
comer  of  i.he  house  they  saw  something  which  at 
once  struck  them  all  as  being  rather  singular.  It 
was  nothing  else  than  a  shop,  small  in  size,  fitted 


208 


AMONT.    THE   nrilGANDS. 


up  with  sliclvos  and  counters  ;  a  row  of  jars  was 
fixed  on  one  side,  and  in  the  rear  were  furnaces. 
Michael  Anpelo  inibrined  them  that  it  had  onco 
been  an  eatinsi-honse.  The  hoys  thonj^ht  it  ex- 
cessively odd  that  the  uccujiants  of  such  a  house 
—  people,  too,  who  bore  such  a  name  as  Sallust  — 
should  tolerate  such  an  estahlisliinent ;  but  there 
was  the  undeniable  I'act  before  their  eyes.  Alter- 
wards  their  sur[)rise  diminished  ;  fur  in  many 
other  houses  in  Pompeii — they  Ibund  shops  of  the 
same  kind,  and  saw  that  the  ancient  Pompeians 
were  not  above  trade:  and  tliat,  if  they  did  not 
keep  the  shops  thems^'Ives,  they  weie  at  least 
very  Avilling  to  hire  the  fronts  of  their  houses  to 
other  parties  Avho  did  wish  t(j  do  so.  In  Sallust's 
liouse  they  saw  the  traces  of  very  elepmt  orna- 
ments, and  learned  from  Michael  Angelo  that 
many  of  the  articles  discovered  here  showed  that 
it  must  onco  have  been  the  abode  of  a  luxurious 
and  refined  family. 

The  elegant  house  of  the  Dioscuri  was  visited 
next.  It  is  in  the  Via  del  Mercurii,  and  is  a 
very  interesting  and  oxtensive  ruin,  and  contains 
some  handsome  fresco  paintings.  After  this  they 
visited  many  other  houses,  a  description  of  which 
is  not  necessary ;  they  were  all  like  the  Villa  of 
Diomede,  though  less  interesting  ;  and  among  them 
all  there  was  the  same  general  character.  In  all 
these  only  the  lower  stories  remained,  though  in 
a  few  a  small  part  of  the  second  story  was  visible. 


TEMPLKS,    TOWERS,    AND    PALACES. 


209 


As  tlio  oliief  part  of  tlio  Poinpeian  liouso  was  on 
tho  j:ri'"Uii(l  door,  the  loss  of  tlio  Uf)per  story  did 
not  inako  any  parti(Milar  dincroricn.  Among  tlicso 
they  found  anotlior  teinplo,  called  tin;  Pantheon  —  a 
larfj;(!  odifico,  which  showed  si;rns  of  preat  former 
beauty.  It  was  twn  hun(hed  and  tliirty  I'eet  long, 
and  nearly  two  hun(h-ed  feet  wide.  An  altar  is 
still  standing,  around  wiiich  are  twelve  pedestals, 
upon  which  once  sto(»(l  twelvi;  statues.  A  few 
houses  and  temples  followed,  after  which  Michael 
Angelo  inforuKMl  them  that  he  was  about  to  take 
them  to  one  of  tho  greatest  curiosities  in  tiie  city. 

The  building  to  which  ho  led  them  was  in  much 
bettor  preservation  than  tho  majority  of  tho  edi- 
fices in  Pom[)eii,  though  not  nearly  so  large  as 
many  that  they  had  seen.  It  was  about  sixty  feet 
wide,  and  a  little  longer,  being  nearly  square  in 
shape,  and  was  evidently  a  temple  of  some   kind. 

«  What  is  this  ?  "  asked  David. 

"  This  is  the  Temple  of  Isis,"  said  Michael 
Angelo." 

"  The  Temple  of  Isis  !  "  exclaimed  David,  in  eager 
excitement.  "  Is  it,  indeed  !  "  and  he  looked  around 
with  a  face  full  of  intense  interest.  Hitherto, 
though  all  the  boys  had  shown  much  interest,  yet 
David  ha,d  surpassed  them  all  in  his  cnthusiasni. 
This  was  partly  on  account  of  his  taste  for  classical 
studies,  and  his  love  for  all  connected  with  classi- 
cal antiquity,  but  more  especially  from  the  fact 
that  he  had  very  recently  read  Bulwer's  Last 
U 


210 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


Days  of  Pompeii ;  and  on  tliis  occasion  that  whole 
story,  with  all  its  descriptions  and  all  its  incidents, 
was  brought  vividly  before  him  by  the  surround- 
ing scene.  Most  of  all  was  the  Temple  of  Isis 
associated  with  that  storv,  and  it  seemed  more 
familiar  to  him  than  anything  else  that  he  had 
found  in  the  city.  Glaucus  and  lone,  the  Chris- 
tian Olynthus,  and  the  dark  Arbaces  seemed  to 
haunt  the  place.  In  one  of  the  chambers  of  this 
very  temple,  as  Michael  Angelo  was  now  telling, 
—  even  while  leading  the  way  to  that  chamber, — 
had  been  found  a  huge  skeleton,  witli  an  axe  beside 
it ;  two  walls  had  been  beaten  through  by  that 
axe,  but  the  desperate  fugitive  could  go  no  far- 
ther. In  another  part  of  the  city  had  been  found 
another  skeleton,  carrying  a  bag  of  coins  and  some 
ornaments  of  this  Temple  of  Isis.  David  listened 
to  Michael  Angelo's  account  with  strange  interest, 
for  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  the  fabled  charac- 
ters of  Bulwer's  story  were  endowed  with  actual 
reality  by  Michael  Angelo's  prusaic  statements. 

After  inspecting  the  chamber  just  mentioned, 
they  were  taken  to  a  place  where  they  saw  what 
had  once  been  the  pedestal  of  a  statue.  Here 
Michael  Angelo  showed  them  a  hollow  niche, 
which  was  so  contrived  that  one  might  conceal 
himself  there,  and  speak  words  which  the  ignorant 
and  superstitious  populace  might  believe  to  come 
from  the  idol's  own  stony  li})s.  This  one  thing 
showed  the  full  depth  of  ancient  ignorance   and 


THEATRES    AND    AMPHITHEATRES. 


211 


Buperatition  ;  and  over  tl)is  Michael  Angelo  waxed 
quite  eloquent,  and  proceeded  to  deliver  himself 
of  a  number  of  impressive  sentences  of  a  highly 
important  character,  which  he  uttered  with  that 
fluent  volubility  peculiar  to  the  whole  race  of 
guides,  ciceroni,  and  sjiowraen,  in  all  parts  of  the 
world.  These  moral  maxims  were  part  of  Michael 
Angelo's  regular  routine,  and  the  moment  that 
he  found  himself  here  in  this  Temple  of  Isi-s,  the 
stream  of  wisdom  would  always  begin  to  flow. 

The  next  place  to  which  Michael  Angelo  intend- 
ed to  take  them  was  the  ampiiitheatre,  which 
could  be  seen  from  where  they  were  standing. 
All  this  time  David  had  been  more  eager  than  any 
of  the  others,  and  far  more  profoundly  moved. 
He  felt  his  soul  stirred  to  its  inmost  depth  by  the 
thrilling  scenes  through  which  he  had  been  moving. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  though  there  were  revealed 
here  to  his  eyes,  in  one  glance,  all  that  he  had 
been  lalxniously  acquiring  from  books  by  the 
study  of  years.  But  this  was  better  than  books. 
These  Koman  houses,  into  which  ho  could  walk, 
were  far  b'etter  than  any  number  of  plans  or 
engraved  prints,  however  accurately  done.  These 
temples  allorded  an  insight  into  the  old  pagan 
religion  better  far  than  volumes  of  description. 
The;;e  streets,  and  shops,  and  public  squares,  and 
wall,  and  gates,  and  tombs,  all  gave  him  an  insight 
into  the  departed  Roman  civilization  that  was  far 
fresher,  and  more  vivid,  and  more  profound,  than 


212 


AMONG    THE    BRIGANDS. 


any  that  he  had  ever  gained  before.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  one  day  was  too  small  for  such  a  place. 
He  must  come  again  and  again,  he  tiiought.  He 
was  unwilling  to  go  on  with  the  rest,  but  lingered 
longer  than  any  over  each  spot,  and  was  always 
the  last  to  quit  any  place  which  they  visited. 

They  stopped  on  their  way  at  the  Tragic  and 
Comic  Theatres,  and  at  length  reached  the  Amphi- 
theatre itself.  This  edifice  is  by  far  the  largest 
in  the  city,  and  is  better  preserved  than  any.  It 
is  built  of  large  blocks  of  a  dark  volcanic  stone, 
and  constructed  in  that  massive  stylo  which  the 
Romans  lived,  and  of  which  they  have  left  the  best 
examples  in  these  huge  amphitheatres.  As  this 
Amphitheatre  now  stands,  it  might  still  serve  for 
one  of  those  displays  for  which  it  was  built.  Tier 
after  tier  those  seats  arise,  which  once  had  accom- 
modations for  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  human 
beings.  On  these,  it  is  said,  the  Pompeians  wero 
seated  when  that  awful  volcanic  storm  burst  forth 
by  which  tiie  city  was  mined.  Down  from  these 
seats  they  fled  in  wildest  disorder,  all  panic-stricken, 
rushing  down  the  steps,  and  crowding  through  the 
doorways,  trampling  one  another  under  foot,  in  that 
mad  race  for  life  ;  while  overhead  the  storm  gath- 
ered darker  and  darker,  and  the  showers  of  ashes 
fell,  and  the  suffocating  sulpliuric  vapors  arose, 
and  amid  the  volcanic  storm  the  lightnings  of  the 
sky  flashed  forth,  illuminating  all  the  surrounding 
gloom  with  a  liorrid  lustre,  and  blending  with  the 


THEATRES   AND   AMPHITHEATRES. 


213 


subterranean  rumblings  of  the  earthquake  the 
thunder  of  the  upper  air. 

From  this  cause  the  Amphitheatre  !nay  be  con- 
sidered the  central  spot  of  interest  in  Pompeii. 
What  little  has  been  told  of  the  fate  of  the  city 
gathers  around  this  place,  and  to  him  who  sits 
upon  those  seats  there  is  a  more  vivid  realization 
of  that  awful  scene  than  can  be  obtained  any- 
where else. 

On  reaching  the  Amphitheatre  they  seated  them- 
selves on  the  stone  steps,  about  half  way  up  the 
circle  of  seats,  and  each  one  gave  way  to  the  feel- 
ings that  filled  him.  They  had  walked  now  for 
hours,  and  all  of  them  felt  somewhat  wearied,  so 
that  the  rest  on  these  seats  was  grateful.  Here 
they  sat  and  rested. 


214 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


Lofty  classical  enthusiasm  of  Daviil^  and  painful  Lack  of 
feeling  on  the  Part  of  Frank.  —  David,  red  hot  with  the 
Flow  of  the  Past,  is  suddenly  confronted  with  the  Present. 
—  The  Present  dashes  Cold  Water  upon  his  glowing  F.n- 
thusiasm.  —  The  Gates.  —  Mijios,  ^Eacus,  and  Rhada- 
f nan  thus.  —  The  Culprits. 

S  they  thus  rested  on  the  scats  of  the 
Amphitlieatre,  the  classical  enthusiasm  of 
David  rose  superior  to  fatigue,  and  his 
enthusiastic  feelings  burst  forth  without  restraint, 
in  a  long  and  somewhat  incoherent  rhapsody  about 
the  iiill  of  Pompeii.  Full  beibre  them,  as  they  sat, 
rose  Vesuvius;  and  they  saw  that  which  helped 
them  to  reproduce  the  past  more  vividly,  for  even 
now  the  dense,  dark  cloud  of  the  volcano  was 
gathering,  and  the  thick  smoke-volumes  were  roll- 
ing forth  from  the  crater.  Far  into  the  heavens 
the  smoke  clouds  arose,  ascending  in  a  dark  pillar 
till  they  reached  the  uj)per  strata  of  the  atmos- 
phere, where  they  unfolded  themselves,  and  spread 
out  afar — to  the  east,  and  the  west,  and  the  north, 
and  the  south.  Some  such  appearan(n!  as  this  the 
mountiiin  may  have  had,  as  it  towered  gloomily 
before  the  Pompeians  on  that  day  of  days.     Some 


ENTHUSIASM    OF   DAVID, 


215 


such  scene  as  this  may  have  appeared,  only  deep- 
ened into  terrors  a  thousand  fold  more  gloomy,  to 
the  population  of  the  doomed  city,  as  they  gath- 
ered here  on  these  seats  for  the  last  time. 

Such  were  the  ideas  of  David  Clark;  and  these 
ideas  he  poured  forth  in  a  long  rhapsody,  full  of 
wild  enthusiasm.  At  length,  however,  that  enthu- 
siasm flagged,  and  ho  was  compelled  to  stop  for 
want  of  breath. 

"  0,  that's  all  very  fine,"  slid  Frank,  suddenly, 
as  David  stopped,  and  breaking  the  silence  whicli 
had  ibllowed  his  eloquent  outburst,  —  "that's  all 
very  fine,  of  course.  You  have  a  habit,  David,  my 
son,  of  going  into  raptures  over  old  bones  and  old 
stones,  but  alter  all,  I'd  just  like  to  ask  you  one 
question." 

•'  What's  that?  "  asked  David,  a  little  sharply. 

"  Why,  this.  Has  this  place,  after  all,  come  up 
to  your  ideii?"  And  Frank  looked  at  him  with 
very  anxious  eyes. 

"  This  place  ?  "  said  David.  "  Wiiat,  Fompeii  ? 
Come  up  to  my  idea?  Why,  of  course  it  has. 
What  makes  you  ask  such  a  question  as  that?  I 
never  spent  such  a  day  in  all  my  life." 

'•■  Well,  for  my  part,"  said  Frank,  in  a  very  can- 
did tone,  "  FU  be  honest.  I  confess  Fm  disap- 
pointeil." 

And  saying  this,  Frank  shook  his  head  defiantly, 
and  looked  at  all  the  other  boys,  with  the  air  of 
one  who  was  ready  and  willing  to  maintain  his 
position. 


216 


AMONG   THE   BRKiAXDS. 


"  Disappointed !  "  exclaimed  David,  in  an  inde- 
scribable tone,  in  which  reproach,  astonishment, 
and  disgust  were  all  blended  together. 

"Yes,"  said  Frank,  firmly,  "disappointed  —  ut- 
terly, completely,  and  tee-totally.  I'll  tell  you 
what  my  idea  was.  My  idea  was,  that  the  streets 
would  be  streets,  in  the  first  place.  Well,  they're 
not  streets  at  all.  They're  mere  lanes.  They're 
nothing  more  than  foot-paths.  Secondly,  my  idea 
was,  that  the  houses  would  be  houses.  Well, 
they're  not.  They're  old  ruins ;  heaps  of  dust 
and  bricks  —  " 

"Nonsense!"  interrupted  David,  in  indignant 
tones.  "How  could  the  houses  be  standing  after 
being  buried  for  so  many  centuries?  You  iurget 
what  a  tremendous  weight  of  ashes,  iuid  stones, 
and  earth,  lay  upon  their  roofs.  Houses  !  Why, 
did  you  expect  to  find  couches  to  lie  on?  or 
chairs  < —  " 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  my  quarrel  with  Pompeii 
doesn't  end  here.  For,  you  see,  evi-n  if  the  houses 
were  whole  and  uninjured,  what  would  they  be? 
Poor  affairs  enough.  Just  think  how  small  they 
are.  Rooms  ten  by  twelve.  Nari-ow  passage-ways 
for  halls,  that'll  scarcely  allow  two  peof)le  to  pass 
each  other.  The  rooms  are  closets.  The  ceilings 
were  all  low.  And  then  look  at  the  tem))les.  I 
expected  to  find  stone  walls  and  marble  columns. 
But  what  have  I  found?  Nothing  but  shams  — 
pillars  built  of  bricks,  and  plastered  over  to  re- 


DTSAl'POINTMKNT    OF   FRANK. 


217 


scmble  marhlo.  Do  you  call  that  the  right  style 
of  thing?  Why,  at  home  we  sneer  at  lath-and- 
plaster  Gothic.  Why  should  we  admire  lath-and- 
plaster  Greek  because  it's  in  Pompeii?  Then, 
again,  look  at  the  Forums  — miserable  little  places 
that'll  only  hold  about  fifty  people," 

"Pooh!"  said  David;  "as  if  they  didn't  know 
what  was  largo  enough  !  " 

"  I  don't  doubt  that  they  knew  it,"  said  Frank. 
"  But  what  I  say  is,  tiiat  if  these  were  large 
enough  for  them,  what  a  poor  lot  they  must  have 
been ! " 

"  Alter  all,"  said  David,  "  Pompeii  was  not  a 
great  city.  It  was  only  a  small  city.  You  expect 
to  find  here  the  magnificence  of  Rome." 

"  No,  1  don't.  1  merely  expect  to  find  some- 
thing that'll  carry  out  the  promise  of  those  pic- 
tures that  they  make  of  scenes  in  Pompeii.  Why, 
there  isn't  anything  in  the  whole  town,  except, 
perhaps,  this  place,  tiuit  k)oks  largo  enough  for  an 
ordinary  [)erson  to  move  about  in.  Look  at  the 
walls  —  miserable  things  twenty  feet  high.  Look 
at  the  streets — only  wide  iMiough  lor  a  single  cart. 
Li)ok  at  the  sidewalks  —  only  wide  enough  for  a 
single  man.  The  only  thing  in  the  whole  town 
that  comes  up  to  my  idea  is  the  Amphitheatre. 
This  is  respectable.  It  corresponds  with  the  pic- 
tures, and  the  descriptions  of  travellers.  But  as 
to  all  the  rest,  I  have  only  to  remark  that  they  are, 
first,  mean  ;  secondly,  small ;  and  thirdly,  in  out- 
rageously bad  taste." 


218 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Frank  ceaaod,  and  looked  steadfastly  at  David. 

David  looked  at  Frank,  but  his  feelings  were 
too  strong  for  utterance.  His  indignation  at  this 
desecration  of  a  place  that  was  so  hallowed  in 
his  eyes  could  not  be  expressed.  ITe  turned  his 
face  away  in  silent  scorn,  and  fixed  his  gaze  on 
Vesuvius. 

They  waited  a  long  time,  and  when  at  length 
they  prepared  to  leave  Pompeii,  it  was  late  in  the 
day.  All  the  other  visitors  had  left  long  before, 
and  they  were  the  last  in  the  city.  They  walked 
along  looking  round  them  till  the  last,  and  at  length 
reached  the  entrance.  ^lichaol  Angelo  went  off 
to  get  the  carriage.  They  waited  a  little  while  to 
take  a  last  look,  and  then  passed  through  the  gate. 
Here  they  found  themselves  confronted  by  three 
officials,  the  custodians  of  the  place. 

One  of  these  addressed  them  in  very  fair 
English. 

"  Messieurs,"  said  he,  "  before  you  leave,  I  haf 
to  inquire  —  Deed  you  take  anyting  out  from 
Pompeii?  " 

"  Take  anything?  "  said  Uncle  Moses,  in  an 
indignant  voice.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  A  tousand  pardons,  sare, "  said  the  other,  po- 
litely. "  It  ees  a  formaletee.  I  mean  de  leetlo 
stones,  de  pieces  of  stock,  v/ood,  plastair.  Ha ! 
De  reliques,  do  souvenirs." 

He  was  rather  an  unpleasant  looking  man,  with 
a  very  sallow  iace,  high  cheek-bones,  and  a  heavy 


RELICS   FROM   THE    BURIED    CITY. 


219 


goatee  on  the  tip  of  his  chin,  which  waj^ged  up 
and  down  as  ho  talked  in  quite  a  wonderi'ul  way. 

"  Stones,  sticks,  phister  ?  "  said  Undo  Moses. 
"  Course  not." 

The  ofiicial  looked  intently  at  him,  and  thou  at 
the  boys.  Alter  this  ho  conversed  with  his  com- 
panion in  Italian.  These  companions  were  quite  as 
unprepossessing  in  their  appearance  as  himself. 
Then  the  first  speaker  turned  to  the  boys. 

"  You,  sare,"  said  he  to  Frank,  in  rather  an  un- 
pleasant tone,  "  haf  you  do  stones  or  do  bones  ?  " 

''  Not  a  stone,  not  a  bone,"  said  Frank,  smilingly. 
"  I  did  take  a  few  at  first,  but  I  pitched  them 
away." 

"  And  you,  sare  ?  "  said  he  to  Bob. 

"  Don't  deal  in  such  articles,"  said  Bob,  with  a 
grin  —  not  in  my  line  —  not  my  style." 

"  Pardon,"  said  the  ofiicial,  with  a  sickly  smile, 
"  but  I  must  put  do  usual  interrogatoree.  You, 
sare?"  and  ho  addressed  himself  to  David. 

David  turned  pale. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moinent. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  believe  I  have  got  a  few 
little  stones,  just  two  or  three,  you  know  ;  little 
relics,  you  know." 

"  Ah  !  ver  good,  ver  nais,"  said  the  ofiicial,  with 
the  sunshine  of  perfect  content  illuminating  his 
sallow  features.  "  And  you,  sare  ?  "  he  continued, 
turning  to  Clive. 

"  Well,   yes,"   said    Clive,   "  I've    got   a   few,   I 


220 


AMONfi    THE    BRTOANPS. 


believe  ;  but  they  really  don't  amount  to  anything 
in  particular." 

"  0,  no,  not  at  all,"  said  the  Italian ;  "  dey  don't 
amount  to  notin ;  but  look  you,  de  govaircment 
liaf  made  de  law  dat  no  pairson  will  take  no 
stone,  nor  steek,  nor  relique,  nor  bone,  nor  sou- 
venir, Irom  Pompeii,     You  mus  goei'dem  all  oop." 

"Why?  They're  only  two  or  three,"  pleaded 
David,  in  a  heart-broken  voice. 

''  So,  dat  is  cct.  Look  you.  Eet  ees  de  law. 
0,  yais.  I  cannot  help.  Everybody  will  take  two 
or  tree.  Very  well.  Ten  tousand,  twenty  tou- 
sand,  hundred  tousand  come  here  every  year,  and 
all  take  away  hundred  tousand  pocket  full.  Ah, 
lia  !  See  you?  What  den  ?  Why,  den  all  Pompeii 
be  carried  away.  Aha  !  dat  great  shame.  Too 
bad,  hey?  ha?  You  ondstand.  So  you  sail  gif  dem 
all  oop  into  my  hand." 

David  and  Clive  remonstrated  most  vehemently, 
but  the  olHcial  was  olidurate.  He  pleaded  the  law. 
He  insisted  on  the  lull  restoration  of  everything. 

So  the  two  lads  began  to  disgorge,  with  the 
following  result :  — 


1  piece  of  brick  from  the  Sidewalk. 

1  bit  of  stone,  Street. 

1  stucco.  Basilica. 

1  do.  Temple  Venus. 

1  do.  Forum. 

1  do.  Temple  Jupiter. 


1!KI,I(S    ritOM    THK    HITIMKD    CITY. 


221 


bit  of  stone  from 
do. 
do. 

do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 

bone, 

do. 

package  dust, 

do. 

do. 

pebble, 

do. 
bit  of  plaster, 
do. 
do. 
brick, 
do. 
stone, 
do. 


the  Public  Bakory. 
Sentry  box. 
Wall. 
Gateway. 
Street  Tombs. 
Villa  Diomede. 

du. 
Sepulchre. 

do. 

do. 
Villa  Sallust. 

do. 
Eating  House. 
House  ot"  Dioscuri. 
Pantheon. 
Temph,'  Mercury. 

do.       I  sis. 
Tragic  Theatre. 
Comic  Theatre. 
Amphitheatre, 
do. 


The  above  is  by  no  means  a  complete  inventory 
of  the  articles  produced  by  Clive  and  David,  but 
will  serve  to  give  an  idea  of  the  nature  of  that 
heap  which  was  spread  upon  the  table  before  the 
stern  officials.  One  by  one  they  were  turned  out 
from  the  well-filled  pockets  of  David  and  Clive. 
Slowly  and  reluctantly  the  two  boys  turned  out 
those  precious  treasures.     Sadly  and  mournfully 


222 


AMONG    THE   imTGAXPS, 


tlioy  laid  them  on  tl)o  taldc,  uiulur  tlio  Btcrn,  tlio 
indexibU^,  the  roluntless  j^a/o  of  tlio  three  inex- 
orable custodians,  who,  to  David's  mind,  seemed 
the  impersonations  of  Alinos,   yEacus,  and    Hhada- 


ith 


all  thi 


d 


fi 


ny  more, — 

nients    from   houses,   hits    ol'  mosaic    stone,    littlo 
chips,  —  all  were  seized,  and  all  wcro  conliseatod. 

Xot  a  Word  was  spoken.  It  was  a  sorrow  too 
strong  for  words  ;  and  Minos,  vEaeus,  and  Hluida- 
manthus  stood,  individually  and  collective!}-,  in- 
flexible and  inexorable.  The  ruel'ul  counte- 
nances of  the  two  culprits  excited  the  sympathy 
and  pity  of  their  ce)inpanions  ;  but  it  seemed  a  case 
where  no  help  covdd  avail  them.  Frank  and  Hob 
looked  upon  the  scene  with  a  strong  desiie  to 
interfere  in  some  way,  and  Uncle  Moses  looked 
quite  as  distressed  as  either  David  or  Clivo. 

Suddenly  a  new  actor  entered  upon  the  scene. 

It  was  ^lichael  An!;-elo. 

He  came  in  wi  h  a  f[uick  step,  started  as  ho 
noticed  the  sadness  on  the  faces  of  his  party,  and 
then  threw  a  rapid  glance  around.  Out;  glance 
was  suflicient  to  show  plainly  enough  what  had 
hapi)en{;d.  He  saw  the  table  covered  with  tho 
stones  and  bones  already  descrijjcd.  He  saw  tho 
heart-broken  expression  that  was  stamped  upon 
the  faces  of  David  and  Clive  as  they  gazed  u|»ou 
their  parting  treasures.  He  saw  the  attitude  and 
the  expression  of  Uncle  Moses,  and  Frank,  and 
Bob,  as  they  watched  their  friends. 


I 


THK   JUDOKS   COXCILIATLD. 


223 


That,  ono  ghirice  not  only  expliiinod  all  to 
Mic'liacil  An<^ol(),  but  suj,'gejitc«l  to  liiin  ii  course  of 
Conduct  upon  which  lie  instantly  proceeded  to  act. 

He  stepped  up  to  the  Hide  of  Riiadanianthus,  and 
accostiiifif  hlin  in  Italian;  he  sj>oke  a  lew  words  in 
a  low  voice.  What  he  said  was,  of  course,  unin- 
telli!>il)le  to  the  bov.s.  After  these  few  words, 
Michael  Anpjelo  then  slipj)ed  something  into  the 
Land  of  the  inexorable  one. 

Then  iio  turnefl  to  the  despairing  boys. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Michael  Angelo,  cheerily. 
"  I  haf  explained.     You  may  keep  dc  tings." 

David  and  (^livc  looked  up,  and  stared  at  Michael 
Angelo  in  wonder,  not  fully  compreh(Uiding  him. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Michael  Angelo.  "  Doy 
onderstand.  I  haf  explained.  You  put  dem  back 
into  your  pocket.  You  sail  keep  de  tings.  It's  all 
light.  Dey  are  yours  now.  It's  all  r-r-r-r-right. 
All  r-r-r-r-right,  I  say." 

David  and  ('live  still  hesitated,  and  looked  at 
Kliadaniantlius, 

Kliadamanthus  gazed  benignantly  at  them, 
smiled  a  gracious  smile,  and  waved  his  hands  with 
the  air  of  a  judge  dismissing  a  case. 

"  All  r-r-right,"  said  Kliadamanthus  ;  "  he  haf  ex- 
plained." 

This  language  was  somewhat  unintelligible. 
What  there  was  to  be  explained  they  could  not 
imagine.  If  the  law  prohibited  the  carrying  off  of 
relics  from  Pompeii,  no  amount  y^i  "  explanation  " 


224 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


could  give  them  a  claim  to  their  unlawful  posses- 
sions. But  neither  David  nor  Clive  was  at  all 
inclined  to  hesitate  about  the  legality  of  their  pos- 
sessions, or  to  make  any  inquiries  about  the  nature 
of  the  explanation  which  had  been  made  by  Michael 
Angelo.  It  was  joy  enough  for  them  to  know  that 
the  dilliculty  was  over,  and  that  the  relics  were 
theirs  once  more. 

So  the  pile  of  relics  went  back  from  that  table 
into  the  pockets  of  David  and  Clive  with  a 
rapidity  that  is  inconceivable.  Away  from  their 
faces  passed  that  heart-broken  expression  which 
had  been  upon  them ;  the  shadows  passed  away 
from  their  brows,  the  sunshine  of  joy  and  exulta^ 
tion  overspread  them,  and  they  looked  at  Michael 
Angelo  in  silent  gratitude. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  they  were  in  the 
carriage. 

Then  David  asked  Michael  Angelo  how  it  was 
that  he  had  changed  the  stern  resolve  of  the  in- 
exorable Rhadamantlius  into  such  easy,  gracious, 
and  good-tempered  indulgence. 

Michael  Angelo  laughed. 

"  1  gif  him,"  said  he,  "just  one  half  dollar.  Dat 
was  what  he  wanted  all  de  time.  Aftaire  dees  you 
know  what  to  do.  All  r-r-right.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  I  " 

And  Michael  Angelo  burst  into  a  peal  of 
laughter. 

Upon  this  Uncle  Moses  began  to  moralize  about 


'I 


TO   NAPLES   AGAIN. 


225 


the  corrupt  morals  of  the  Italian  race,  and  went 
on  to  speak  of  tyranny,  priestcraft,  slavery,  aristoc- 
racy, monarchy,  primogeniture,  brigandage,  and 
ten  thousand  other  things. 

And  the  carriage  rolled  back  to  Naples. 

15 


226 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


The  Glories  of  Naples.  —  The  Museum.  —  The  Curt. f^    is. 

—  How  they  unroll  the  charred  Manuscripts  exhuircd 
from  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii.  —  On  to  Rome.  —  Capua. 

—  TJie    Tomb   of   Cicero.  —  Terracina.  —  The  'Pontine 
Marshes.  —  The  Appii  Forum. 

j^>(^^|HE   party  remained   in   Naples   some  time 

f  longer,  and  had  much  to  see.  There  was 
the  Royal  Museum,  filled  with  the  treasures 
of  antique  art,  filled  also  with  what  was  to  them 
far  more  interesting  —  the  numerous  articles  ex- 
humed from  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii.  Here 
were  jewels,  ornaments,  pictures,  statues,  carvings, 
kitchen  utensils,  weights,  measures,  toilet  reciui- 
sites,  surgical  instruments,  arms,  armor,  tripods, 
braziers,  and  a  thousand  otiier  articles,  the  ac- 
comi)animents  of  that  husy  life  which  had  been  so 
abruptly  stopped.  All  these  articles  spoke  of  some- 
thing connected  with  an  extinct  civilization,  and 
told,  too,  of  human  life,  with  all  its  hopes,  fears, 
joys,  and  sorrows.  Some  spoke  of  disease  and  ])ain, 
others  of  festivity  and  joy;  these  of  peace,  those 
of  war  ;  iiere  were  the  emblems  of  religion,  there 
the  symbols  of  literature. 


HERCULANEAN   AND    POMPKIAN   MANUSCRIPTS.      227 


i 


Among  all  these,  nothing  was  more  interesting 
than  the  manuscript  scrolls  which  had  been  found 
in  the  libraries  of  the  better  houses.  These  looked 
like  anything  rather  than  manuscripts.  They  had 
all  been  burned  to  a  cinder,  and  looked  like  sticks 
of  charcoal.  But  on  the  first  discovery  of  these 
they  had  been  carefully  preserved,  and  efforts  had 
been  made  to  unroll  them.  These  efforts  at  first 
were  baffled ;  but  at  last,  by  patience,  and  also  by 
skill,  a  method  was  found  out  by  which  the  thing 
might  be  done.  The  manuscripts  were  formed  of 
Egyptian  papyrus  —  a  substance  which,  in  its  ori- 
ginal condition,  is  about  as  fragile  as  our  modern 
paper  ;  the  sheets  were  rolled  around  a  stick,  and 
were  not  over  eight  inches  in  width,  and  about  six- 
teen feet  in  length.  The  stick,  the  ornaments,  and 
the  cases  had  perished,  but  the  papyrus  remained. 
Its  nature  was  about  the  same  as  the  nature  of  a 
scroll  of  pa{)er  manuscript  would  be  after  passing 
through  the  fire.  Each  thin  filament,  as  it  was  un- 
rolled, would  ^u'urable  into  dust.  Now,  this  crumbling 
was  arrested  by  putting  over  it  a  coating  of  tough, 
gelatinous  substance,  over  which  a  sheet  of  muslin 
Avas  placed,  the  gelatinous  substance  acting  also 
upon  the  charred  sheet  in  such  a  way  as  to  detach 
it  from  the  rest  of  the  scroll.  In  this  way  it  was 
unrolled  slowly  and  carefully,  two  inciies  at  a 
time,  and  on  being  unrolled  a  fac-simile  copy  was 
at  once  made.  Of  course  there  was  no  attempt  to 
preserve  the  manuscripts;  they  wore  too  perishable; 


228 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


and  after  a  short  exposure,  just  long  enough  to 
admit  of  a  copy  being  made,  they  shrank  up  and 
crumbled  away. 

There  were  other  places  of  attraction  in  this 
.  lutiful  city  —  the  Villa  Realo,  the  chosen  prom- 
\  :ade  of  the  Neapolitans,  which  stretches  along 
the  shore,  tilled  with  trees,  and  shrubbery,  and 
winding  paths,  and  flower-beds,  and  vuses,  and 
statues,  and  sculptures,  and  ponds,  and  fountains, 
and  pavilions.  There  was  tbv  Castle  of  St.  Elmo, 
with  its  frowning  walls ;  the  Cathedral  of  San 
Francisco,  with  its  lofty  dome  and  sweeping  colon- 
nades ;  and  very  many  other  churches,  together 
with  palaces  and  monuments. 

But  at  last  all  this  came  to  an  end,  and  they  left 
Naples  for  Rome.  They  had  a  carriuge  to  them- 
selves, which  they  had  hired  for  the  journey,  and 
the  weather  was  delightful.  The  road  was  smooth 
and  pleasant,  the  country  was  one  of  the  fairest  on 
earth,  and  as  they  rolled  along  they  all  gave  them- 
selves up  to  the  joy  of  the  occasion.  They  passed 
through  a  region  every  foot  of  which  was  classic 
ground.  Along  their  way  they  encountoi-ed  amphi- 
theatres, aqueducts,  tombs,  and  other  monuments 
of  the  past,  some  in  ruins,  others  still  erect  in 
stately  though  melancholy  grandeur.  Capua  in- 
vited them  to  tarry  —  not  the  ancient  Capua,  but 
the  modern,  which,  though  several  miles  distant 
from  the  historic  city,  has  yet  a  history  of  its  own, 
and  its  own  charms.     But  among  all  these  scenes 


TERRACINA. 


229 


and  sights  which  tliey  encountered,  the  one  that 
impressed  them  most  was  Cicero's  tomb.  It  is 
built  on  the  spot  wliere  ho  was  assassinated,  of  im- 
mense stones,  joined  witliout  cement.  In  shape  it 
is  square,  but  the  interior  is  circular,  and  a  single 
column  rises  to  the  vaulted  roof.  Of  course  what- 
ever contents  there  may  have  been  have  long  since 
been  scattered  to  the  winds ;  no  memorial  of  the 
great  orator  and  patriotic  statesman  is  visible  now ; 
but  the  name  of  Cicero  threw  a  charm  about  the 
place,  and  it  seemed  as  though  they  were  drawn 
nearer  to  the  past.  The  boys  expressed  their  feel- 
ings in  various  ways,  and  David,  who  was  most 
alive  to  the  power  of  classical  associations,  de- 
livered, verbatim,  about  one  half  of  the  first  ora- 
tion of  Cicero  against  Catiline.  lie  would  have 
delivered  the  whole  of  it,  and  more  also,  beyond  a 
doubt,  had  not  Frank  put  a  sudden  stop  to  his  flow 
of  eloquence  by  pressing  his  hand  against  David's 
mouth,  and  threatening  to  gag  him  if  he  didn't 
"  stop  it." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  they  arrived 
at  Terracina.  This  town  is  situated  on  the  sea- 
shore, with  the  blue  Mediterranean  in  front,  stretch- 
ing far  away  to  the  hori/on.  Far  out  into  the  sea 
runs  the  promontory  of  Circ;eum,  —  familiar  to  the 
boys  from  their  studies  in  Homer  and  Virgil, — 
while  over  the  water  the  white  sails  of  swift- 
moving  vessels  passed  to  and  fro.  The  waves 
broke  on  the  strand,  lishing-boats  were  drawn  up 


230 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


on  the  beach,  and  there  were  wonderful  briskness 
and  animation  in  tlie  scene. 

Terracina,  like  all  other  towns  in  this  country, 
has  remains  of  antiquity  to  show.  Its  Cathedral 
is  built  from  the  material  of  a  iieathen  temple, 
probably  that  of  Apollo,  which  was  once  a  mag- 
nificent edifice,  but  is  now  in  ruins.  But  it  was 
the  modern  beauty  of  the  town,  rather  than  this 
or  any  other  of  its  antiquities,  that  most  attracted 
the  boys  —  the  sea-beach,  where  the  waters  of 
the  Mediterranean  rippled  aud  plashed  over  the 
pebbles ;  the  groves  and  vineyards,  that  extended 
all  around :  the  wooded  hills ;  the  orange  treea 
and  the  palm,  the  thorny  cactus  and  the  aloe  ;  and 
above  all,  the  deep,  azure  sky,  and  the  clear,  trans- 
parent atmosphere.  To  the  intoxication  of  all 
this  surrounding  beauty  they  gave  themselves  up, 
and  wandered,  and  scranililed,  and  raced,  and 
chased  one  another  about   the  slumberous  town. 

They  slept  soundly  that  night,  lulled  to  rest  by 
the  long  roll  of  the  Mediterranean  waters,  as  they 
dashed  upon  the  beach,  and  on  the  following  morn- 
ing resumed  their  journey.  The  road  now  passed 
through  the  Pontine  Marslies,  and  they  all  entered 
upon  this  part  of  their  journey  with  strong  feel- 
ings of  curiosity. 

The  district  which  goes  by  the  name  of  tiie 
Pontine  Marshes  is  one  of  the  most  famous  places 
in  Europe.  It  is  about  forty-five  miles  long,  and 
varies  in  breadth  from  lour  to  eleven  miles.     The 


PONTINE    MAUSHRS, 


231 


origin  of  tliose  mnrslies  is  not  known.  In  the 
early  ages  of  the  republic  of  Rome  numerous 
cities  are  mentioned  as  existing  here.  But  all 
these  gradually  became  depopulated  ;  and  now  not 
a  vestige  remains  of  anv  one  of  them.  From  a 
very  remote  period  numerous  efforts  were  put 
forth  to  reclaim  these  lands.  When  the  famous 
Appian  Way  was  constructed  through  them,  they 
Avere  partially  drained.  Afterwards  a  canal  was 
formed,  which  ran  by  the  road-side ;  and  of  this 
canal  Horace  speaks  in  the  well-known  account  of 
his  journey  to  Brundusium.  Julius  Ctesar  intend- 
ed, among  other  great  works,  to  enter  upon  the 
task  of  reclaiming  them ;  but  his  deatii  prevented 
it.  Under  various  successive  emperors,  the  at- 
tempt was  made,  and  continued,  until  at  last,  in 
the  reign  of  Trajan,  nearly  all  the  district  was 
recovered.  Afterwards  it  fell  to  ruin,  and  the 
waters  flowed  in  once  more.  Then  they  remained 
neglected  for  ages,  down  to  modern  times.  Vari- 
ous popes  attempted  to  restore  them,  but  without 
Biiccess,  until  at  last  Pope  Pius  V^l.  achieved  the 
accomplishment  of  the  mighty  task  in  the  year 
1788,  ever  since  which  time  the  district  has  been 
under  cultivation. 

The  road  was  a  magnificent  one,  having  been 
built  on  the  foundations  of  the  ancient  Appian 
Way.  It  was  lined  on  each  side  with  trees,  and 
was  broad  and  well  paved.  It  is  considered  one 
of  the  finest  in   Europe.     Along  this  they  rolled, 


232 


AMOXr,   THE   HRIGANDS. 


the  blue  sky  above  thom,  on  the  right  hand  the 
mountains,  on  the  left  the  sea.  The  air  was  damp 
and  chill ;  but  at  first  they  did  not  feel  it  particu- 
larly, though  Uncle  Moses  complained  of  "  rheu- 
matics," and  took  precautionary  measures  against 
his  insidious  enemy  by  wrapping  himself  up  warm- 
ly. As  they  went  on  they  saw  crowds  of  peasants 
coming  to  work  in  the  fields.  These  peasants 
lived  in  the  hill  country  on  the  right,  and  had  to 
walk  a  great  distance  to  get  to  their  place  of  labor, 
—  for  to  live  on  tiie  marshes  was  impossible.  Men, 
women,  and  even  children  were  there ;  and  their 
pale,  sickly  faces  and  haggard  looks  sliowed  how 
deadly  were  the  effects  of  the  noxious  exhalations 
from  this  marshy  soil. 

At  abont  midday  they  I'eaohed  an  inn,  which 
stood  about  half  way  over  the  marshes,  by  the 
road-side.  David  speculated  much  as  to  whether 
this  place  might  or  might  not  be  the  Forum  Appii 
mentioned  in  the  book  of  Acts  as  a  stopping-placo 
of  St.  Paul  on  his  way  to  Rome  ;  but  the  others 
were  too  hungry  to  take  any  interest  whatever  in 
the  question.  They  remained  here  nearly  two 
hours,  got  something  to  eat,  and  then  resumed 
their  journey. 


PONTINE   MARSHES. 


233 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


The  Pontine  Marshes.  —  A  Change  comes  over  the  Party.  — 
The  foul  Exhalations.  —  Tiic  Sleep  of  Death.  —  Dread- 
ful Accident.  —  Despair  of  Frank.  — A  Break-down.  — 
Ingenuity  of  the  Driver.  —  Resumption  of  the  fourney. 


^(^^OR  the  first  half  of  the  day   the  boys 
jrg3        been  in   great   spirits.      Laughter,  i 


s  had 
noisy 
tl^"  conversation,  jests,  chaff,  and  nproarions 
songs  had  all  been  intermingled,  and  the  carriage 
was  a  miniature  Bedlam.  But  after  their  stoppage 
at  the  wayside  inn  a  change  took  place,  and  on 
resuming  their  journey,  they  seemed  like  a  very 
different  company.  The  air  of  the  marshes  now 
began  to  act  upon  them.  They  felt  it  to  be  raw, 
and  chill,  and  unpleasant.  A  general  feeling  of 
discomfort  and  a  general  sensation  of  gloom  per- 
vaded all  of  them.  Bob  held  out  most  bravely, 
and  strove  to  regain  the  jollity  which  they  had 
felt  before.  For  a  long  time  his  fun  and  nonsense 
provoked  a  laugh ;  but  at  lengtli  his  fun  grew 
fainter,  and  his  nonsense  more  stupid ;  and  the 
laughter  grew  less  hearty  and  more  forced,  until 
at  length  the  fun,  and  the  nonsense,  and  the  laugh- 
ter ceased  nltogether. 


234 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


Frank  felt  upon  himself  the  ref^ponsibility  of  the 
rest  to  an  unusual  degree.  He  was  only  a  few 
weeks  older  than  David,  l)ut  he  was  far  stronger 
and  more  mature  in  many  respects.  David  was  a 
hard  student,  and  perhaps  a  bit  of  a  book-worm, 
and  had  a  larger  share  of  the  knowledge  that  may 
be  gained  from  books  ;  but  Frank  had  seen  more 
of  the  world,  and  in  all  that  relates  to  the  practi- 
cal affairs  of  common  life  he  was  immeasurably 
superior  to  David.  For  this  reason  Frank  often 
assumed,  and  very  naturally  too,  the  guardianship 
of  the  party ;  and  so  appropriate  was  this  to  him, 
that  the  rest  tacitly  allowed  it.  As  for  Uncle 
Moses,  'lonc  of  them  ever  regarded  him  as  their 
protector,  but  rather  as  an  innocent  and  simple- 
hearted  being,  who  himself  required  protection 
from  them. 

Frank,  therefore,  on  this  occasion,  kept  warning 
the  whole  party,  above  all  things,  not  to  let  them- 
selves go  to  sleep.  He  had  heard  that  the  air  of 
the  Pontine  Marshes  had  a  peculiar  tendency  to 
Bend  one  to  sleep  ;  and  if  one  should  yield  to  this, 
the  consequences  might  be  fatal.  Fever,  he  said, 
would  be  sure  to  follow  sleep  that  might  be  in- 
dulged in  under  such  circumstances.  Tiie  anxi- 
ety which  was  created  in  his  own  mind  by  his 
sense  of  responsibility  was  of  itself  sufficient  to 
keep  him  awake,  and  left  him  to  devote  all  his 
energies  to  the  task  of  trying  to  keep  the  others 
awake  also,  and  thus  save  them  from  the  impend- 
ing danger. 


■i 


A    CIIANOK   COMKS    OVKR   THR    PARTY. 


235 


At  first  they  all  lauglied  at  him  ;  hut  alter  a 
time,  as  each  one  felt  the  drowsiness  coming  over 
him,  they  ceased  to  laugh.  Then  they  tried  to 
sing.  They  ke|)t  np  this  for  some  time.  Tiiey 
exhausted  all  their  st(jck  of  school  songs,  nigger 
songs,  pat^riotic  songs,  songs  sentimental  and  mor- 
al, and  finally  tried  even  hymns.  But  the  singing 
was  not  a  very  striking  success  ;  there  was  a  lack 
of  spirit  in  it ;  and  under  this  depressing  sense  of 
languor,  the  voice  of  music  at  last  died  out. 

Singularly  enough,  the  one  who  felt  this  drow- 
siness most  strongly  was  Bob.  Frank  had  not 
thought  of  him  as  being  at  all  likely  to  fall  asleep ; 
but  whether  it  was  that  his  mobile  temperament 
made  him  more  liable  to  extremes  of  excitement 
and  dullness,  or  whether  the  reaction  from  his 
Ibrmer  joviality  and  noisiness  had  lieen  greater 
than  that  of  the  rest,  certain  it  is  that  Bob  it  was 
who  first  showed  signs  of  sleep.  His  eyes  closed, 
his  head  nodded,  and  lifting  it  again  with  a  start, 
he  blinked  around. 

''  Come,  Bob,"  said  Frank,  "  this  won't  do.  You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  you're  sleepy." 

Bob  said  nothing.  He  rubbed  his  eyes,  uid 
yawned. 

"  Bob,"  said  Frank,  "  take  care  of  yourself." 

"0,  I'm  all  right,"  said  Bob,  with  a  drawl; 
"  never  fear  about  me.     I'm  wide  awake." 

Scarce  had  he  finished  this  when  his  eyes  closed 
again,  and  his  head  fell  forward. 


236 


A  MONO   THE    nUK.'ANDS. 


Frank  shook  liim,  and  IJoh  raised  himself  up 
with  an  ellort  at  dignified  surprise,  which  was, 
however,  a  I'ailure. 

"  You  needn't  shake  a  fellow,"  he  said  in  a  hus- 
ky, sleepy  voice. 

"  r»iit  1  will  shako  you,"  cried  Frank. 

"  Le'  —  me  —  'k)ne,"  said  Bob,  in  a  half  whisper, 
nodding  again. 

"  Here,"  cried  Frank  ;  '•  this'll  never  do.  Bob  ! 
Bol) !  wake  up  !  Bob  !  Boo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-f  ! 
Wa-a-a-a-a-a-a-ake  u-u-u-u  up  ! " 

But  Bob  wouldn't  wake  up.  On  the  contrary, 
he  bobbed  his  head  in  a  I'oolish  and  imbecile  way 
towards  Frank,  as  though  seeking  unconsciously 
to  find  a  place  on  which  to  rest  it.  I>ut  Frank 
wouldn't  allow  anything  of  the  sort.  lie  made  Jjob 
sit  erect,  and  held  him  in  this  way  for  some  time, 
bawliiig,  yelling,  and  occasionally  shaking  him. 
David  and  Clivc  were  a  little  rt)used  by  this,  and 
surveyed  it  with  sleepy  eyes.  Uncle  Moses,  Imw- 
ever,  Avas  as  wide  awake  as  ever  —  he  had  his 
usual  anxiety  about  the  well-being  of  the  boys, 
and  this  made  sleep  out  of  the  question.  He  now 
joined  his  entreaties  to  tliose  of  Frank;  and  the 
two,  uniting  their  shouts,  succeeded  in  making 
considerable  uproar. 

Still  Bob  woidd  not  wake. 

"  I'll  make  him  get  out  and  walk,"  said  Frank. 
"  This'll  never  do.  If  ho  sleeps  here,  he  may 
never  wake  again." 


THE   SLKEP   OF    DEATH. 


237 


Saying  this,  Frank  turned  to  open  tho  carriugo 
floor  to  call  to  the  driver.  As  ho  did  so,  ho  loosed 
his  hohl  of  iioh,  wlio,  being  no  longer  stayed  up  on 
that  side,  fell  over  on  Frank's  lap  with  his  face 
downward. 

Upon  tiiis,  Frank  turned  back,  and  determined 
to  lift  IJob  up  again. 

Shaking  him  as  hard  as  ho  could,  ho  yelled  in 
his  ears  and  shouted  to  him  to  ge*  up. 

Now  Bob  was  asleep,  yet  in  his  bleep  he  had  a 
kind  of  under  consciousness  of  what  was  going 
on.  Ho  was  stupidly  conscious  that  they  were 
trying  to  raise  him  up  to  an  uncomfortable  sitting 
posture  —  a  bolt-upright  position.  This  he  was 
sleepily  unwilling  to  submit  to.  There  wasn't  any 
particular  strength  in  his  hands,  and  his  drowsy 
faculties  didn't  extend  fiirther  down  than  his  head. 
He  felt  himself  lying  on  something,  and  to  prevent 
them  from  raising  him  from  it,  ho  seized  it  in 
his  teeth. 

"  Bo-o-o-ob  !  Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-b  !  "  yelled  Frank. 
"  W-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ako  u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-p  !  " 

But  Bob  wouldn't. 

He  only  held  on  the  tighter  with  his  teeth. 

Upon  this,  Frank  seized  him  with  all  his  strength, 
and  gave  Bob  a  sudden  jerk  upward,  when  — 

C-r-r-r-r-i-k-k-k-k  !  — 

A  sharp,  rip|)ing  sound  was  heard,  and  as  Bob's 
head  was  pulled  up,  a  long,  narrow  piece  of  cloth 
was  exhibited,  hanging  down  from  his  mouth,  and 
held  in  his  teeth. 


238 


AMONG   THE    BRIOANDS. 


Frank  looked  at  it  in  dismay,  and  then  looked 
down. 

He  gave  a  cry  of  vexation. 

Bob  had  seized  Frank's  trousers  in  his  teeth, 
and  as  he  was  pulled  up,  he  held  on  tight.  Conse- 
quently the  cloth  gave  way,  and  there  was  poor 
Frank,  reduced  to  rags  and  tatters,  and  utterly 
unpresentable   in  any   decent  society. 

lie  gave  up  Bob  in  despair,  and  began  to  in- 
vestigate the  extent  of  the  ruin  that  had  been 
wrought  in  his  trousers.  It  was  a  bad  rent,  an 
irretrievable  one,  in  fact ;  and  all  that  he  could  do 
was  to  tie  his  handkerchief  around  his  leg. 

Bob  now  slept  heavily,  held  up  by  Uncle  Moses. 
The  other  boys  grew  drowsier  and  drowsier. 
Frank  was  just  deciding  to  get  out  of  the  carriage 
and  make  them  ail  walk  for  a  time,  when  a  sud- 
den event  occurred  which  brought  a  solution  to 
the  problem. 

It  was  a  sudden  crash. 

Down  sank  the  carriage  under  them,  and  away 
it  Avent,  toppling  over  on  one  side.  A  cry  of 
terror  escaped  all  of  them.  Every  one  started  up, 
and  each  one  gras])ed  his  neigiibor. 

There  was  something  in  this  sudden  shock  so 
dreadful  and  so  startling,  that  it  broke  through 
even  the  drowsiness  and  heavy  stupor  of  Bob,  and 
penetrated  to  his  slumbering  faculties,  nnd  in  an 
instant  roused  them  all.  With  a  wild  yell  he  flung 
his  arras  round  Uncle    Moses.     Uncle    Moses    fell 


A  brp:ak-do\vn. 


239 


backward,  and  all  the  others  were  flung  upon  hira. 
They  all  lay  thus  lieaped  upon  the  side  of  the 
coach,  a  struggling  mass  of  humanity. 

Frank  was  the  first  I  >  come  to  himself,  and 
regain  his  presence  of  mind. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  in  a  cheerful  voice.  "  We 
haven't  gone  over  quite.  The  horses  have  stopped. 
All  right." 

A  groan  came  from  below  the  pile  of  humanity. 

"  Get  off',  get  off !  "  exclaimed  Bob's  voice. 
"  You're  smotliering  Uncle  Moses."  Frank,  who 
was  U{)permost,  disengaged  himself,  and  helped  oiF 
the  others ;  and  linally  Bob  scrambled  away,  giving 
every  indication  by  this  time  that  he  was  at  last 
perfectly  wide  awake. 

This  restored  Uncle  Moses.  He  was  able  to 
take  a  long  breath. 

By  this  time  Frank  had  torn  open  the  carriage 
door,  and  jumped  down.     The  others  followed. 

lie  saw  the  driver  holding  the  horses.  The 
carriage  was  tilted  over.  One  of  the  hind  wheels 
lay  underneath,  a  shattc'ed  wreck. 

Now  all  was  bustle  and  confusion. 

The  driver  proceeded  to  [  t  into  execution  a 
plan  l)y  which  they  could  p  >  forward,  at  least  far 
enough  to  traverse  the  marshes.  The  boys  all 
helped,  and  their  efforts  drove  away  the  last 
vestige  of  drowsiness. 

The  plan  eonsistecl  in  taking  out  the  tongue  of 
the    wagon,    biniling   it  upon   the    fore   axle,  and 


240 


AMONG  THE   BRIGANDS. 


letting  its  other  end  drag  on  the  ground.  Now,  as 
the  tongue  sloped  down,  the  hind  axle  rested  upon 
it,  and  thus  the  trailing  wood  served  to  keep  the 
coach  erect,  and  to  act  as  a  runner,  which  supplied 
very  well  the  place  of  the  lost  wheel.  The  horses 
were  then  hitched  on  by  the  traces,  without  any 
tongue,  and  in  this  way  they  pulled  along  the 
broken  carriage. 


THE  MARCH  ENDED. 


241 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


The  March  eudcd.  —  A  lonely  Inn.  —  Evil  Faces.  —  Beetling 
Brows.  —  Sinister  Glances.  —  Suspicious  of  the  Party.  — 
They  put  their  Heads  together.  —  Conferences  of  the  Party. 
—  A  threatening  Prospect. — Barricades. — In  Time  of 
Peace  prepare  for  War.  —  The  Garrison  arm  themselves. 

/A\  FTER  completing  their  arrangements  they 
-T^jVj  resumed  their  journey :  but  this  time 
4/*^  they  all  went  on  ^  t.  Avith  the  exception 
of  Uncle  Moses.  They  went  on  fnot  for  two  rea- 
sons: first,  because  it  was  impossible  for  the  Ijorses 
to  pull  thorn  all  when  one  of  the  wIr'cIs  was  gone, 
nince  it  was  as  much  as  they  could  do  iu  maintain 
a  walking  pace  even  with  the  empty  carriage  ;  and 
the  other  reason  was,  that  by  walking  they  would 
1)0  better  able  to  fight  off  the  drowsiness  which 
had  menaced  them.  In  truth,  as  far  as  drowsiness 
is  concerned,  there  did  not  now  seem  to  bo  any 
])articular  danger;  for  the  shock  of  the  break-dowr 
had  been  sufficient  to  rouse  even  Bob,  and  the 
effects  of  that  shock  still  remained.  Uncle  Closes, 
however,  on  account  of  his  years,  his  infirmities, 
and  his  tendency  to  "  rheumatics,"  together  with 
IG 


242 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


his  freedom  from  drowsiness,  was  installed  in  the 
carrian;o,  with  all  due  honors,  as  its  solo  occupant. 

Walking;  on  thus,  they  did  not  regret,  in  the 
slightest  degree,  the  hardships  of  their  lot,  hut 
rather  exulted  in  them,  since  they  had  been  the 
means  of  rousing  them  out  of  their  almost  uncon- 
querable tendency  to  sleep.  Frank  felt  the  high- 
est possible  relief,  since  he  Avas  now  freed  from  the 
responsibility  that  had  of  late  been  so  heavy.  In 
Bol),  however,  there  was  the  exhibition  of  the 
greatest  liveliness.  Bub,  mercurial,  volatile,  non- 
sensical, mobile,  was  ever  running  to  extremes; 
and  as  he  was  the  first  to  f  dl  asleep,  so  now,  when 
he  had  awaked,  he  was  the  most  wide  awake  of  all. 
He  sang,  hn  shouted,  he  laughed,  he  danced,  he 
ran ;  he  seemed,  in  fact,  overflowing  with  animal 
spirits. 

Fortunately  they  were  not  very  far  from  the 
end  of  the  marshes  when  the  wheel  broke,  and  in 
less  than  two  hours  they  had  traversed  the  re- 
mainder. Tilt  driver  could  speak  a  little  English, 
and  informed  them  that  they  could  not  reach  the 
destination  which  he  had  proposed;  but  he  hoped 
before  dark  to  get  as  far  as  an  inn,  where  they 
could  obtain  food  and  lodging.  He  informed  them 
that  it  was  not  a  very  good  inn  ;  but  under  the 
circumstances  it  was  the  best  that  they  could 
hope  for.  To  the  boys,  however,  it  madci  very 
little  difference  what  son  of  an  inn  they  came  to. 
As  long  as  they  could  get  something  to  eat,  and 


A    LONELY   INN. 


243 


any  kind  of  a  bed  to  lie  on,  they  were  content ;  and 
80  they  told  the  driver. 

Leaving  the  marshes, the  road  began  to  ascend; 
and  after  about  a  iialf  hour's  farther  tramp,  they 
came  to  a  place  which  the  driver  informed  them 
was  the  inn. 

It  was  by  no  means  an  inviting  place.  It  was 
an  old  stone  edifice,  two  stories  high,  which  had 
once  been  covered  with  stucco ;  but  the  stucco 
had  fallen  off  in  most  places,  disclosing  the  rough 
stones  underneath,  and  giving  it  an  air  of  dilapida- 
tion and  squalor.  The  front  was  by  the  road-side. 
A  door  opened  in  tiie  middle,  on  each  side  of 
which  was  a  small,  dismal  window.  In  the  second 
story  were  two  other  small,  dismal  windows.  At 
the  end  they  saw  a  window  on  each  story,  and  a 
third  in  the  attic.  These  were  all  small  and  dis- 
mal. Some  of  them  had  sashes  and  glass  ;  others 
had  sashes  without  glass ;  while  others  had  no 
sashes  at  all. 

A  group  of  men  were  outside  the  house,  all  of 
whom  stared  hard  at  the  carriage  as  it  drew  near. 
There  was  something  in  the  aspect  of  these  men 
which  was  indescribably  repulsive  to  tho  boys  : 
their  dirty,  swarthy  faces,  covered  with  shaggy, 
jet-black  beards ;  their  bushy  eyebrows,  from 
beneath  which  their  black  eyes  glowed  liko  balls 
of  fire  ;  their  hats  slouclied  down  over  their  brows  ; 
their  lounging  attitudes, and  their  furtive  glances; 
all  these  combined  to  give  thorn  an  <!vil  aspect  —  a 


244 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


wicked,  sinister,  suspicious  appearance,  by  which 
all  the  boys  were  equally  impressed.  They  said 
nothing,  however ;  and  much  as  they  disliked  the 
look  of  the  place  and  its  surroundings,  they  saw 
that  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  so  they  made  up 
their  minds  to  pass  the  night  here  as  well  as  they 
could. 

Leaving  the  carriage,  they  waited  a  few  mo- 
ments to  ask  the  driver  about  the  prospects  for 
the  next  day.  The  driver  had  everything  ar- 
ranged. Velletre  was  only  five  miles  away,  and  he 
was  going  to  send  there  for  another  carriage,  or 
go  himself.  They  would  all  be  able  to  leave  early 
on  the  following  day. 

This  reassured  them  somewhat,  and  though  they 
all  would  have  been  willing  to  walk  to  Velletre, 
rather  than  pass  the  night  here,  yet  Uncle  Moses 
would  not  be  able  to  do  it,  and  so  they  had  to  make 
up  their  minds  to  stay. 

On  entering  the  house,  they  found  the  interior 
quite  in  keei)ing  with  the  exterior.  The  hall  was 
narrow,  and  on  either  side  were  two  dirty  rooms, 
in  which  were  some  frowsy  women.  One  room 
seemed  to  be  a  kitchen,  and  the  other  a  sitting- 
room.  A  rickety  stairway  led  up  to  the  second 
story.  Here  they  came  to  a  room,  which,  they 
were  informed,  was  to  be  theirs.  The  door  was 
fragile,  and  without  any  fastening.  The  room  was 
a  large  one,  containing  a  table  and  three  beds, 
with  one  small  wash-stand.     Two  windows  looked 


THE    INN. 


245 


out  in  front,  and  at  eitlier  end  waa  one.  At  the 
south  end  the  window  had  no  sash  at  all,  but  was 
open  to  the  air. 

The  aspect  of  the  room  was  certainly  rather 
cheerless,  but  there  was  notiiing  to  be  done.  So 
they  sat  down,  and  waited  as  patiently  as  they 
could  for  dimior.  Belbre  it  came,  the  sun  set, 
and  a  feeble  lainp  was  brought  in,  which  flickered 
in  the  draughts  of  air,  and  scarcely  lighted  the 
YOimi  at  all. 

The  dinner  was  but  a  meagre  repast.  There 
w^as  some  very  thin  soup,  then  a  stew,  then  maca- 
roni. There  were  also  bread  and  sour  wine.  How- 
ever, the  boys  did  not  complain.  They  had  footed 
it  so  far,  and  had  worked  so  hard,  that  they  were 
all  as  hungry  as  hunters ;  and  so  the  dinner  gave 
us   groat  satisfaction  as  if  it  had  been  far  better. 

AVhilc  they  were  eating,  an  evil-faced,  low- 
Ijrowed  villain  waited  on  the  table ;  and  as  he 
placed  down  each  dish  in  succession,  ho  looked 
round  upon  the  company  with  a  scowl  that  would 
liave  taken  away  the  a])petite3  of  any  guests  less 
liungry  than  these.  But  these  were  too  near 
starvation  to  be  alFected  by  mere  scowls,  and  so 
they  ate   on,  reserving  their  remarks  for  a  future 


occasion. 


So  the  dinner  passed. 

And  after  the  dinner  was  over,  and  the  dishes 
were  removed,  and  they  found  themselves  alone, 
they  all  looked  round  stealthily,  and  they  all  put 
their  heads  together,  and  then,  — 


246 


AMONG    THE    BRIOANDS. 


"  I  don't  like  this,"  said  Frank, 
do.  said  Clive. 

do.  said  David, 

do.  said  Bob. 

"  I  don't  feel  altogether  comfortable  here,"  said 
Uncle   Moses. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  scowl  ?  "  said  Bob. 
do.  said  Clive. 

do.  said  David, 

do.  said  Frank. 

"  He's  the  ugliest  creetur  I  ever  see,"  said  Uncle 
Moses.    "  I've  been  expectin  somethin  o'  this  sort." 
The  boys  looked  all   around,   for  fear  of  being 
observed.     Frank  got  up  and  closed  the  rickety 
door.     Then  he  resumed  his  seat. 

Then  they  all  put  their  heads  together  again. 
"  This  is  a  bad  place,"  said  Frank, 
do.  said  Clive. 

do.  said  David, 

do.  said  Bob. 

"  It's  the  on\vholesornede;st  lookin  place  I  ever 
see,"  said  Uncle  Moses. 

"I  distrust  them  all,"  said  Clive. 
do.  said  Frank, 

do.  said  David, 

do.  said  Bob. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  that  ere  driver,"  said 
Uncle  Moses.  "  I  b'leve  he  contrived  that  there 
break-down  a  purpose,  so  as  to  bring  us  to  this 
here  den." 


SUSPICIOUS    APPKARANCES. 


247 


id 


lo 
t." 

fig 
ty 


3 


^er 


Uncle  Moses'  remark  sank  deep  into  the  minds 
of  all.  Who  was  the  driver,  after  all  ?  That  break- 
down was  certainly  suspicious.  It  might  have  been 
all  pre-arranged.  It  looked  suspicious.  Then  the 
men  below.     There  were  so  many  of  them  ! 

"  There  are  a  dozen  of  them/'  said  Bob. 

do.  said  Frank, 

do.  said  David, 

do.  said  Clive. 

"Thar's  too  big  a  gatherin  here  altogether," 
said  Uncle  Mosea,  "  an  it's  my  idee  that  they've 
come  for  no  good.  Didn't  you  notice  how  they 
stared  at  us  with  them  wicked-looking  eyes  o' 
theirs?" 

"  I  wish  we'd  gone  on,"  said  David, 
do.  said  Bob. 

do.  said  Clive. 

do.  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,  boys,  that's  what  we'd  ort  to  liev  done," 
said  Uncle  Moses.  "  Why  didn't  some  on  ye  think 
of  it?" 

"  We  did;  but  we  thought  you'd  bo  too  tired," 
said  Frank. 

"Tired?  tired?"  exclaimed  Uncle  Moses. 
"Tired?  What!  mcUrcdl  me.'''  And  he  paused, 
overcome  with  amazenicnt.  "  W' hy,  boys,  ye  must 
all  be  ravin  distracted  !  3Ie  tired  !  Why,  I'm  as 
fresh  as  a  cricket;  an  though  raythcr  oldish,  yet 
I've  got  more  clear  muscle,  narve,  and  sinuoo, 
than  all  on  ye  put  together." 


248 


AMONG   THE    BRIGANDS. 


At  this  little  outburst  the  boys  said  notliing,  but 
regretted  that  tlioy  had  not,  at  least,  proposed  go- 
ing on. 


(I 


W 


c're  in 
do. 


a  fix. 


sau 


ICl 


ive. 


lo. 


said  Bob. 
said  Frank. 


sau 


ID; 


IV  u  I 


We're  in  a  tight  place,  sure,"  said  Uncle  Moses. 
There's  no  help  near,"  said  Frank. 


do. 


said  i'aviu. 
do.  said  Bob. 

do.  said  Clive. 

"  It's  the   lonesomest   place   I   ever  see,"  said 
Uncle  Moses. 

"  It's  too  dark  to  leave  nou',"  said  David, 
do.  said  (.'live, 

do.  said  Bob. 

do.  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,  and   they'd  all  bo  artcr   us   atbro   we'd 
taken  twelve  steps,"  eaid  Uncle  Moses. 

"  They're  the  worst  sort  of" brigands,"  said  Bob. 


do. 
do. 
do. 


said  Frank, 
said  David. 


sai 


dCl 


ivo. 


"  Yes,    rcg'lar    bloodthirsty    miscreants,"    said 
Unclo  Moses. 

"  The  door  has  no  lock,"  said  Frank. 


lo. 


do. 


said  David 
said  Bob. 
said  Clive. 


SUSPICIOUS   APPEARANCES. 


249 


"0,  yes,   it's  a  reg'lar  trap,  anwo'ro  in  for  it, 
sure,''  siiid  Undo  Mosos.     ''  I  only  hope  we'll  get 

out  of  it." 

"  That  window's  open,  too,"  said  David, 
tlo.  said  Frank. 

,]().  Haid  Clive. 

^](),  said  Bob. 

"Yes,  an  tliar  ain't  even  a  sash  in  it,"  said  Uncle 
Moses ;  "  no,  nor  even  a  board  to  ])nt  agin  it  1  " 
"  They'll  come  to-night,"  said  Clive. 
do.  said  Frank. 

(Jo.  said  Bol). 

(io*  »f^id  David. 

«  No  doubt  in  that  thar,"  said  Uncle  :Moses,  in 
lugubrious  tones ;  "  an  we've  got  to  prepar  our- 
selves." 

"  What  shall  wo  do?  "  said  Frank. 
do.  said  Ijob. 

do.  ^'^''^  Clive. 

do.  said  David. 

"  The  pint  now  is,"  said  Uncle  ^[oscs,  — "  the 
pint  now  is,  what  air  we  to  do  under  the  succurn- 
stances?     That's  what  it  is." 

At  this  Frank  rose  and  opened  the  rickety  door. 
He  looked  out. 
He  closed  it  again. 

Then  ho  went  to  each  of  the  windows  in  suc- 
cession. 

He  looked  out  of  each. 
Then  he  resumed  his  seat. 


250 


AMONG    THE    BRIGANDS. 


"Wal?"  asked  Undo  Moses,  in  an  inquiring 
tone. 

"  There'.'*  no  one  to  bo  seen,"  said  Frank ;  "  l)ut 
I  thought  1  heard  voices,  or  rather  whispei-s,  just 
under  tiie  end  window," 

There  was  a  solemn  silence  now,  and  they  all 
sat  looking  at  one  another  with  very  earnest  faces. 

"  It's  a  solemn  time,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses, 
"  a  deeply  solemn  time." 

To  this  the  boys  made  no  reply,  but  by  their 
silence  signified  their  assent  to  Uncle  Moses' 
remark. 

At  length,  after  a  silence  of  some  time,  Frank 
spoke. 

"  I  think  we  can  manage  something,''  said  he, 
"  to  keep  them  out  for  the  night.  My  idea  is,  to 
jnit  the  largest  l)edstead  against  the  door.  It 
oj)ens  inside  ;  if  the  bedstead  is  against  it,  it  can't 
be  opened." 

"  But  the  windows,"  said  Clive. 

"  0,  we  needn't  bother  about  the  windows, 
they're  too  high  up,"  said  Frank,  confidently. 

And  now  they  all  set  themselves  fairly  to  work 
making  preparations  for  the  night,  which  prepara- 
tions consisted  in  making  a  barricade  which 
should  offer  resistance  to  the  assaults  of  the 
bloody-minded,  murderous,  beetle-browed,  scowl- 
ing, and  diabolical  brigands  below.  Frank's  sug- 
gestion about  the  bed  was  acted  upon  first.  One 
of  the  bedsteads  was  large,  ponderous,  old-fash- 


BARRICADKS, 


251 


ioned,  and  seemed  capal)le,  it'  placed  against  a 
doorway,  of  withstanding  anything  less  than  a 
cannon  ball.  This  they  all  seized,  and  lifting  it 
l)odily  I'roin  the  ground,  they  placed  it  hard  and 
fast  against  the  door.  The  result  was  gratifying 
in  the  highest  degree  to  all  of  them. 

They  now  proceeded  to  inspect  the  room,  to 
search  out  any  weak  spots,  so  as  to  guard  against 
invasion.  As  to  the  windows,  they  thought  that 
their  height  from  the  ground  was  of  itself  suf- 
ficient to  remove  all  danger  in  that  (juarter. 

But  in  their  search  around  the  room  they 
noticed  one  very  alarming  thing.  At  the  south 
corner  there  was  a  step-ladder,  which  led  up  into 
the  attic,  thus  affording  an  easy  entrance  to  any 
one  who  might  be  above.  Frank  rushed  up  to  the 
step-ladder  and  shook  it.  To  his  great  relief,  it 
was  loose,  and  not  secured  by  any  fixtures.  They 
all  took  this  in  their  hands,  and  though  it  was  very 
lieavy,  yet  they  succeeded  in  taking  it  down  from 
its  place  without  making  any  noise.  They  then 
laid  it  upon  the  floor,  immediately  underneath  the 
opening  into  the  attic.  They  would  have  felt, 
])erhaps,  a  trifle  more  secure  if  they  had  been  al)le 
to  close  up  the  dark  opening  above  ;  but  tiie 
removal  of  the  step-ladder  seemed  sufficient,  and 
in  so  doing  they  felt  that  they  had  cut  off  all  means 
of  approach  from  any  possible  enemy  in  that 
quarter. 

Frank  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  as  he  looked 


252 


AMONG    THK   lillKJAXDS, 


around.  He  felt  that  notliing  more  could  be  done. 
All  the  others  looked  around  with  equal  com- 
placency, and  to  the  apprehensions  which  they 
had  been  entertaining  there  now  succeeded  a 
delicious  sense  of  security. 

"  We're  safe  at  last,"  said  Clive. 
do.  said  Boli. 

do.  said  David, 

do.  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses.  "  we're  jest  as 
safe  now  as  if  we  were  to  hum.  Ve  can  defy  a 
hull  ai'my  of  them  bloody-mind(!il  miscreants,  fignt 
them  off  all  riglit,  and  by  mornin  there'll  be  lots  of 
wagons  passin  by,  an  we  can  git  help.  But  before 
we  go,  let's  see  what  weepins  wo  can  skear  up  in 
case  o'  need.  It's  alius  best  to  have  things 
handy." 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  Fm  sorry  to  say  I've  got 
nothing  but  a  knife  :  "  and  saying  this,  he  displayed 
an  ordinary  jackknife,  not  particularly  large,  and 
not  particularly  sharp,  "  It  isn't  much,"  said  he,  as 
he  opened  it,  and  flourished  it  in  tl'-;  air,  "  but  ifs 
something," 

"  Well,"  said  Clive,  "I  haven't  got  even  a  knife  ; 
but  I've  heard  that  there's  nothing  ecpial  to  a 
chaii,  if  you  want  to  disconcert  a  burglar;  and  so 
I'll  take  tU'i'i,  and  knock  down  the  first  brigand 
that  shows  his  nose  ;  "  and  as  ho  said  this,  ho  lifted 
a  chair  from  the  floor,  and  swuult  it  in  the  air. 


I  rely 


on 


th 


iiarricanes 


idf 


sa 


id  D; 


IVK 


and 


WEAPONS   OF   THE   GARRISON. 


253 


don't  see  the  necessity  of  any  arms ;  for  I  don't 
sec  how  we're  goinsi;  to  be  attiicked.  If  v/e  are,  I 
suppose  I  can  use  my  knife,  like  Frank." 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  "  I've  given  my  knife  away, 
and  I'll  have  to  take  a  cliair," 

"  Wal,"  said  Uncle  Closes,  "  I've  got  a  razor,  an 
it's  pooty  ugly  weepin  in  t!ie  hands  of  a  savage 
man  —  a  desprit  ugly  weepin." 

"  And  now  let's  go  to  bed,"  said  David. 
do.  said  Bol). 

do.  said  Clive. 

do.  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,  boys,  that's  about  the  best  thing  we  can 
do,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  decisively. 


254 


AMONG  THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


The  sleepless  Watch.  —  The  viysterious  Steps.  —  The  low 
Whispers. — They  come.'  They  come! — The  Garrison 
roused.  —  To  A  rms  .'  To  A  rtns  !  —  The  beleaguered 
Party.  —  At  Bay.  —  The  decisive  Moment.  —  The  Scaling 
Ladders.  —  Onset  of  the  Brigands. 

to  they  all  went  to  bed. 
)  So  great  was  the  confidence  which  they 
all  felt  in  their  preparations,  precautions, 
and  barricades,  that  not  the  slightest  tliouglit  of 
danger  remained  in  the  mind  of  any  one  of  them 
to  create  alarm,  with  the  single  exception  of  Bob. 

For  some  reason  or  other  Bob  was  more  excita- 
ble at  this  time  than  the  others.  It  may  have 
been  that  this  was  his  nature,  or  it  may  have  been 
that  liis  nerves  were  more  sensitive  since  his 
tremendous  adventures  during  the  night  of  horror 
near  Psestum ;  luit  wiiatever  was  the  cause,  cer- 
tain it  is,  that  on  this  occasion  he  remained  wide 
awake,  and  iiicnpaltle  of  sleep,  while  all  the  others 
were  slumberin_  the  sleep  of  the  innocent. 

lie  and  Frank  had  the  same  bed,  and  it  was  the 
bed  which  had  been  placed  against  the  door.  It 
had  been  placed  in  such  a  way  that  the  head  of 


SLEEPLESS   WATCH. 


255 


the  bed  was  against  the  door.  On  the  north  side 
of  the  room,  and  on  the  left  of  this  bed,  was 
another,  in  which  Uncle  Moses  slept ;  while  on  the 
south  side,  or  the  right,  was  the  bed  which  was 
occupied  by  David  and  Clive.  In  this  way  they 
had  disposed  of  themselves. 

Bob  was  very  wakeful.  The  beds  were  rather 
unprepossessing,  and  consequently  they  had  all 
retired  without  altogetlier  undressing  themselves; 
but  in  spite  of  this  comparative  discomfort  tiiey 
soon  fell  asleep.     Bob  alone  remained  awake. 

He  tried  all  he  could  to  overcome  his  wakeful- 
ness. He  resorted  to  all  the  means  for  producing 
sleep  that  he  had  over  heard  of  or  read  of.  He 
tried  counting,  and  went  on  counting  and  count- 
ing tens,  and  hundreds,  and  thousands.  Pie 
counted  fast,  and  he  counted  slow.  In  vain. 
Counting  was  useless,  and  when  he  had  reached 
as  high  as  four  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
thirty-seven,  he  gave  it  up  in  disgust. 

Then  he  tried  another  infallible  recipe  for  sleep 
He  imagined,  or  tried  to  imagine,  endless  lines  of 
rolling  waves.     This  also  was  useless. 

Then  he  tried  another.  He  endeavored  to 
imagine  ck)uds  of  snioke  rolling  before  him.  This 
was  as  useless  as  the  otliers. 

Then  he  tested  ever  so  many  other  methods, 
as  follows :  — 

Waving  grain. 
Marching  soldiers. 


256 


AMONG   THE  BRIGANDS. 


Funerals. 

A  shore  covered  with  sea-weed. 

An  illimitable  forest. 

A        ditto       prairie. 

The  vault  of  heaven. 

The  wide,  shoreless  ocean. 

A  cataract. 

Fireworks. 

The  stars. 

A  burning  forest. 

Looking  at  his  nose. 

Wishing  himself  asleep. 

Rubbing  his  forehead. 

Lying  on  his  back, 
do.         do.    right  side, 
do.         do.    left  side, 
do.         do.    face. 
And  about  seventy-nine  other   methods,  which 
need  not  be  mentioned,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
they  were  all  equally  useless. 

At  last  he  gave  up  in  despair,  and  rising  up  he 
sat  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  with  his  feet  dangling 
doAvn,  and  looked  around. 

The  moon  had  risen,  and  was  shining  into  the 
room.  By  its  light  he  could  see  the  outline  of  the 
beds.  Around  him  there  ascended  a  choral  har- 
mony composed  of  snores  of  every  degree,  reaching 
from  the  mild,  mellow  intonation  oi  Clive,  down  to 
the  deep,  hoarse,  sepulchral  drone  of  Uncle  Moses. 
Li  spite  of  his  vexation  about  his  wakefulness,  a 


MYSTERIOUS   STEPS. 


257 


i 


.smile   passed  over  Bob's  face,  as  he  listened  to 
those  astonishing  voices  of  the  night. 

Suddenly  a  sound  cauglit  his  ears,  which  at  once 
attracted  his  attention,  and  turned  all  his  thoughts 
in  another  direction. 

It  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  immediately  in 
front  of  the  house,  and  apparently  at  the  doorway. 
How  much  time  had  passed  he  did  not  know  ;  but 
he  felt  sure  that  it  must  be  at  least  midnight.  He 
now  perceived  that  there  were  some  in  the  house 
who  had  not  gone  to  bed.  The  footsteps  were 
shuilling  and  irregular,  as  though  some  people 
were  trying  to  Avalk  with'nit  making  a  noise. 
The  sound  attracted  Bob,  and  greatly  excited 
him. 

In  addition  to  the  footsteps  there  were  other 
sounds.  There  were  the  low  murmurs  of  voices 
in  a  subdued  tone,. and  he  judged  that  there  must 
be  at  least  a  half  a  dozen  Avho  were  thus  talking. 
To  this  noise  Bob  sat  listening  for  some  time.  It 
remained  in  the  same  place,  and  of  course  he  could 
make  nothing  i.ut  of  it ;  but  it  served  to  reawaken 
all  the  fears  of  brigands  which  had  been  aroused 
before  they  went  to  bed. 

At  length  lie  heard  a  movement  from  below. 

The  movement  was  along  the  hall.  It  was  a 
slmilling  movement,  as  of  men  walking  with  the 
endeavor  not  to  makv  a  noise. 

Bob  listened. 

His  excitement  increased. 
17 


258 


AMOXG    THE    BRIGANDS. 


At  last  he  lieanl  the  souiuls  more  plainly. 

They  were  evidently  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway. 

Bob  listened  in  inereasinjj^  excitement. 

Then  there  came  a  ereakin;^  sound.  It  was 
from  the  stairway.     Thoy  were  ascending  it. 

He  thought  of  waking  Frank,  but  decided  to 
wait. 

The  sounds  draw  nearer.  There  must  have 
been  six  or  seven  men  upon  the  stairway,  and 
they  were  walking  up. 

What  for? 

He  had  no  doubt  wliat  it  was  for,  and  he  waited, 
knowing  that  they  were  coming  to  this  room  in 
which  he  was. 

They  tried  to  walk  softly.  There  were  low 
whispers  once  or  twice,  which  ceased  as  they 
drew  nearer. 

Nearer  and  nearer ! 

At  last  Bob  knew  that  they  were  outside  of  the 
door,  and  as  he  sat  on  the  bed,  ho  knew  that  there 
could  not  b(?  more  than  a  yard  of  distance  between 
himself  and  those  l)l()ody-mindcd,  b(;etle-browed, 
ruthless,  demoniac,  and  fiendish  brigands. 

His  blood  ran  cold  in  his  veins  at  the  very 
thought. 

He  did  not  dare  to  move.  He  sat  rigid,  with 
every  sense  on  the  alert,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
door,  listening. 

Then  came  a  slight  creaking  sound —  the  s(jund. 
of   a   pressure   against   the    door,    which   yielded 


THE    LOW   WHISPERS, 


259 


,1 


3 


slightly,  but  was  prevented  by  the  heavy  bed  from 
being  opened  at  all.  It  was  an  unmistakable  sound. 
They  were  trying  to  open  the  door.  They  were 
also  trying  to  do  it  as  noiselessly  as  pcjssible. 
Evidently  they  thought  that  tlioir  victims  were  all 
asleep,  and  they  wished  to  come  in  noiselessly,  so 
as  to  accomplish  their  fearful  errand. 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  to  Bob  as  though  the 
bed  was  being  pushed  back.  The  thought  gave 
him  anguish  inexpressible,  but  he  soon  found  that 
it  was  not  so.  Then  he  expected  a  savage  push 
at  the  door  from  the  baffled  brigands.  He  thought 
that  they  would  drop  all  attempts  at  secrecy,  and 
begin  an  open  attack. 

But  they  did  not  do  so. 

There  were  whispers  outside  the  door.  Evi- 
dently they  were  deliberating.  They  were  unwill- 
ing, as  yet,  to  resort  to  noisy  violence.  They 
wished  to  effect  their  full  purpose  in  secret  and 
in  silence.  Such  were  Bot.'s  thoughts,  which 
thoughts  were  strengthened  as  he  heard  them 
slowly  move  away,  and  descend  the  stairs,  with  the 
same  carefulness,  and  the  same  shulHmg  sound, 
with  which  they  had  ascended. 

"  They  are  going  to  try  the  windows,"  thought 
Bob. 

And  now  as  tiiis  thought  came  to  him,  he  could 
restrain  himself  no  longer.  It  was  no  time  for 
sleep.      He  determined  to  rouse  the  otl;ers. 

He  laid  his  hand  on  Frank's  forehead,  and  shook 


2G0 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


his  head.  Then,  bending  down  close  to  him,  he 
hissed  in  his  ear,  — 

"  Wake  !  wake  !  Brigands  !  Don't  speak  !  don't 
speak  !  silence  !  " 

Frank  was  a  light  sleeper,  and  a  qnick-witted 
lad,  who  always  retained  iiis  presence  of  mind. 
At  Bob's  cry  he  became  wide  awake,  and  without 
a  single  word  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened. 

All  was  still. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

Bob  told  him  all  in  a  few  words. 

Upon  this  Frank  got  up,  stole  noiselessly  to  the 
window  on  tiptoe,  and  listened.  Bob  followed. 
As  they  stood  close  to  the  window,  they  heard  the 
sound  of  murmuring  voices  immediately  beneath. 
Several  of  the  panes  of  glass  were  out  of  this 
window,  so  that  the  voices  were  perfectly  audible  ; 
though  of  course  their  ignorance  of  the  language 
prevented  them  from  understanding  what  was  said. 

As  they  listened,  there  arose  a  movement  among 
them.  The  voices  grew  louder.  The  men  wero 
evidently  walking  out  of  the  house.  The  listeners 
heard  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  on  the  ground 
as  they  walked  away,  and  at  a  little  distance  otV 
they  noticed  that  the  voices  became  more  free  and 
unrestrained. 

"  They'll  be  back  again,"  said  Frank. 

"  Let's  wake  the  others,"  said  Bob. 

Upon  this  suggestion  they  both  proceeded  at 
once  to  act,  waking  them  carefully,  and  cautioning 


TO    ARMS  !    TO    ARMS ! 


261 


them  against  making  any  noise.  The  cautiona 
against  noise  were  so  earnest,  that  not  a  word  was 
spoken  above  a  whisper ;  but  Clive  and  David,  and 
finally  Uncle  iloaes,  stepped  out  upon  the  floor,  and 
the  whole  party  proceeded  to  put  their  heads 
together. 

"  I've  got  a  cliair,"  said  Clive. 

"  I've  got  a  knife,"  said  Frank. 

"  I've  got  a  chair,"  said  Bob. 

"  I've  got  a  knife,"  said  David. 

"  An  I've  got  my  razor,  which  I  shoved  under 
my  pillow,"  said  Uncle  Moses ;  "  an  so  let  em  come 
on.     But  where  are  they  now?" 

"  II-'*-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-h  !  "  said 
Frank. 

All  were  silent,  and  listened.  There  came  out 
from  without  the  sound  of  footsteps  approaching 
the  house,  and  of  low  voices. 

"  They're  coming  back  again,"  said  Bob. 

The  rest  listened. 

Frank  stole  to  the  window  and  looked  cautiously 

0U+, 

By  the  moonlight  ho  saw  plainly  the  figures  of 
four  men.  They  were  coming  from  the  road  to  the 
house,  and  they  were  carrying  a  ladder.  The 
ladder  was  very  long.  The  sight  sent  a  shudder 
througii  him.  He  had  thought  of  the  windows  as 
being  out  of  the  reach  of  danger ;  the  idea  of  a 
ladder  had  never  entered  his  head  at  all.  Yet  he 
now  saw  that   this  was   one  of  the   most  simple 


262 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


and  natural  planst  which  could  bo  adopted  by  the 
brigands. 

lie  came  back  and  told  the  others.  All  felt  the 
same  dismay  Avhich  Frank  had  felt.  None  of  them 
said  a  word,  but  they  all  stole  up  to  the  window, 
and  looking  out  they  saw  for  themselves. 

The  brigands  [)roached  the  house,  carrying 
the  ladder;  and  on  reaching  it,  they  put  their  load 
on  the  ground,  and  rested  for  a  short  time.  As 
they  did  so,  tlie  boys  noticed  that  they  all  looked 
up  at  the  up{)er  windows  of  the  house. 

Then  they  saw  the  brigands  gathering  close  to- 
gether, and  the  murmur  of  their  conversation  came 
up  to  their  ears. 

It  was  a  thrilling  sight.  The  boys  stood  in 
dread  suspense.  No  one  said  a  word,  not  even  a 
whis))or. 

The  conversation  among  the  brigands  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  movement  on  their  part  which  brought 
things  nearer  to  a  climax.  They  raised  the  ladder 
once  more,  and  moving  it  a  little  iarther  away, 
they  [)roceeded  to  put  it  up  against  the  house. 
The  ladder  was  put  up  at  the  south  end  of  the 
house,  and  as  it  was  being  carried  there  for  the 
pur{)0se  of  erection,  the  boys  and  Uncle  Moses  all 
stole  over  to  that  south  window,  where,  standing  a 
little  distance  back,  so  as  to  be  out  of  observation, 
they  looked  out.  Each  one  grasped  his  weapon 
of  defence. 

Clive  his  chair. 


THE   BELEAGUERED    PARTY. 


2G.i 


Frank  liis  knife. 

Bob  his  cliair. 

David  his  knifo. 

Uncle  MoriCH  hia  razor. 

"  Be  ready,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Moses,  in  a  firm 
voice,  as  he  grasped  his  razor.  "  Tlie  hour  air 
come,  and  the  decisive  rnotnent  air  at  hand  !" 

He  said  this  in  a  whisper,  and  the  boys  made  no 
reply  whatever. 

The  brigands  meanwhile  elevated  tlie  ladder, 
and  the  upper  end  struck  the  Ituilding.  T]\o  dull 
thud  of"  that  stroke  sent  a  thrill  to  the  hearts  of 
those  listmiers  in  the  room.  As  they  saw  one  of 
the  brigands  seize  the  ladder  in  order  to  mount, 
they  all  involuntarily  shrank  back  one  step. 

"  It  isn't  this  window,  at  any  rate,"  said  Frank, 
in  a  whisper. 

This  remark  encouraged  them  for  a  moment. 
No,  it  was  not  their  window,  but  the  attic  window. 
They  watched  in  silence  now,  and  saw  the  four 
brigands  go  up. 

Overhead  they  heard  the  sound  that  announced 
them  as  they  stepped  in  through  the  window. 

One  brigand ! 

Two  brigands ! ! 

Three  brigands  I  !  1 

Four  brigands  ! !  I  ! 

And  now  the  momentary  relief  which  they  had 
experienc(Ml  at  seeing  that  the  attack  was  not 
made  upon   their  window   was   succeeded    by  the 


26-t 


AMONn    THE  BRIOANDS. 


darkost  appruhonsions,  as  tlioy  hoard  tho  entrance 
of  those  lour  brigands,  and  know  that  thone  do>5- 
perato  men  wore  just  above  them.  They  wore 
there  overhead.  The  hatchway  was  open.  Tlirough 
tliat  opening  they  couhl  drop  down  one  by  one. 

The  same  thought  came  to  all  of  them,  and  with 
one  common  impulse  they  moved  softly  to  where 
the  step-ladder  lay  on  the  floor.  Frank  made  this 
movement  first ;  the  others  followed. 

They  stood  ranged  along  the  step-ladder. 

First,      Frank,  with  his  knife. 

Second,  IJob,  with  his  chair. 

Third,     Clive,  with  his  chair. 

Fourth,  David,  with  his  knife. 

Fifth,     Uncle  Moses,  with  his  razor. 

Every  one  held  his  weapon  in  a  grasp  which 
the  excitement  of  the  moment  had  rendered  con- 
vulsive. Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  tho  hatch- 
way above,  which  lay  concealed  in  the  gloom. 
Overhead  they  heard  whispering,  but  no  move- 
ment whatever. 

"  Lot's  jump  out  of  the  windows  and  run," 
whispered  Bob,  hurriedly. 

"  No,"  said  Frank,  "  they  are  watching  below  — 
no  use." 

But  further  remarks  were  prevented  by  the  sud- 
den glimmer  of  a  light  above.  It  was  a  light  in 
tho  attic,  not  very  bright,  yet  sufficiently  so  to 
show  the  opening  through  which  their  enemies 
were  about  to  come. 


INCRi:ASiNO    ALARM. 


2G5 


Tlie  brigands  had  lighted  a  lamp  1 

The  exciteincint  grew  Ktrongor. 

Voices  arose,  low  and  hushed. 

Then  footsteps  ! 

Tlie  light  above  the  opening  grow  brighter! 

It  was  an  awful  moment ! 

The  suspense  was  terrible  ! 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  that  suspense  they  had  no 
tliought  of  surrender.  In  fact,  they  did  not  think 
tliat  surrender  would  be  possible.  These  bloody- 
minded  miscreants  would  show  no  quarter;  and 
tlie  besieged  party  felt  the  task  imposed  upon 
tliem  of  selling  their  lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 
And  so  it  was,  that  as  the  brigands  came  nearer  to 
the  opening,  — 

Frank  grasped  his  knife  more  firmly. 

Bob  do.       "    chair         do. 

David       do.       "    knife         do. 

Clivo        do.       "    chair         do. 

While  Uncle  Moses  held  up  his  razor  in  such  a 
way,  that  the  first  brigand  who  descended  should 
fall  full  upon  its  keen  edge. 

The  light  grew  brighter  over  the  opening.  The 
shuffling  footsteps  drew  nearer.  Then  there  was 
a  pause,  and  low  whispers  arose.  The  brigands 
were  immediately  above  them.  The  light  shone 
down  into  the  room. 

The  suspense  was  now  intolerable.  It  was  Frank 
who  broke  the  silence. 

"  W7to^s  there  ?  "  he  cried  in  a  loud,  strong,  stern, 


266 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


menacing  voice,  in  which  th'  re  was  not  the  sh'ght- 
est  tremor. 

At  this  the  whispering  above  ceased.  Every- 
thing was  perfectly  stilL 

"  Who's  there  ? "'  cried  Frank  a  second  time,  in  a 
louder,  stronger,  sterner,  and  more  menacing  voice. 

No  answer. 

All  was  still. 

What  did  it  mean  ? 

"WHO'S  THERE?"  cried  Frank  a  third  time, 
in  the  loudest,  strongest,  sternest,  and  most  men- 
acing tone  that  lie  could  compass,  "  SPEAK,  OR 
I'LL  FIRE !'.!!!!!!!!  " 

This  tremendous  threat  could  not  have  been 
carried  out,  of  course,  with  the  knives,  chairs,  and 
razor  of  the  party  below  ;  but  at  any  rate  it 
brought  a  reply. 

"Alia  raight!  "  cried  a  voice.  "  (),  yais.  It's 
cnalee  me.  Alia  safe.  Come  uj)  here  to  get  some 
sti'aps  for  de  vettura.  Alia  raight.  I  haf  jcdsta 
come  hack  from  Velletre.  Ilaf  brot  de  ddt'i-  vet- 
tura. Scusa  de  interruption,  but  haf  to  get  de 
straps;  dey  up  here.     Alia  raighc !  '' 

It  was  the  voice  of  their  driver  ! 

At  the  first  sctuiid  o{'  tiiat  vniee  (here  was  an 
instantaneuus  and  imineiiso  revnlsiun  ol  teeling. 
Tlie  dark  terror  ol'  a  iiKimeiit  hefnre  was  suddenly 
transtbrmcMl  to  an  alisuidity.  They  had  been  mak- 
ing fools  of  themselves.  They  lelt  tiiis  vt^ry  ki'cn- 
ly.     The    chairs  were   put  (piietly  upon    the  floor; 


hy . 


■■ 

tl 

I 

t 

c 

S 

tc 

r( 

n 

m 

tl 

b 

i 

V 

F 

!}■ 

fo 

fo 
ar 


END  OF  TROUBLES. 


267 


the  knives  were  pocketed  very  stealthily;  and 
Uncle  Moses'  razor  was  slipped  hurriedly  into 
the  breast  pocket  of"  his  coat. 

"  0  !  "  said  Frank,  trying  to  speak  in  an  easy, 
careless,  matter-of-fact  tone.  "  We  didn't  know. 
Shall  we  leave  in  the  morning?  " 

"  0,  yais.     Alia  r-r-raight,"  said  the  driver. 

Soon  after  the  party  descended  the  ladder,  and 
took  it  away.  The  hoys  and  Uncle  Moses  made  no 
remark  whatever.  They  all  crept  silently,  and 
rather  sheepishly,  back  to  their  beds,  feeling  very 
much  ashamed  of  themselves. 

And  yet  there  was  no  reason  for  shame,  for  to 
them  the  danger  seemed  real ;  and  believing  it  to 
be  real,  they  had  not  shrunk,  but  had  faced  it  with 
very  commendable  pluck. 

This  was  the  end  of  their  troubles  on  the  road. 
For  the  remainder  of  that  night  they  slept  sound- 
ly. In  the  morning  they  awaked  refreshed,  and 
found  a  good  breakfast  waiting  for  them.  They 
found  also  another  carriage,  in  which  they  entered 
and  resumed  their  journey. 


268 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    beautiful   Country.  —  Magnificent  Scenery.  —  The  Ap- 
proach to  Albano.  — Enthusiasm  of  the  Boys.  —  Arche- 
ology iiersus  Appetite.  —  The  Separation  of  the  Buys.  — 
The  Story  of  the  Alban  Lake  and  the  ancient  subter- 
ranean Channel. 


/(i^  S  thoy  rolled  along  the  road  on  tliis  last 
£> ^1^  Htago  of  their  eventful  joiirnev,  they  wore 
4-  "^  ^^^  ''^  ^'■'^  highest  sj)irit!s.  On  to  Home! 
was  the  watchword.  It  was  a  glorious  day:  the 
sun  ehono  brightly  from  a  cloudless  sky  ;  the  air 
was  pure,  and  brilliant,  and  genial,  and  it  also 
had  such  a  wonderful  transparency  tliat  distant 
objects  seemed  much  nearer  from  the  distinctness 
with  which  their  outlines  wore  reveahid.  The 
road  was  a  magnincent  one, —  l)road,  well  paved, 
well  grided,  —  and  though  for  iomo  miles  it  was 
steadily  ascending,  yet  the  ascent  was  made  i>y 
such  an  easy  slope,  that  it  was  really  imi)ercept'- 
ble ;  and  they  bowlcl  along  as  easily  and  <,.s 
merrily  as  if  on  level  ground.  .Moicover,  tlie 
scenery  around  was  of  the  most  attrat^tive  char- 
acter. They  were  among  the  luountaitis;  and 
tiiough  there  were  no  snow-ckul  suunnits,  and  no 


ON   TO    ROME. 


269 


lofty  peaks  lost  amid  the  clouds,  still  the  lowering 
forms  that  appeared  on  every  side  were  full  of 
grandeur  and  sublimity.  Amid  these  the  road 
■wound,  and  at  every  new  turn  some  fresh  scene 
of  l)eauty  or  of  magnificence  was  disclosed  to  their 
a<lmiring  eyes.  Now  it  was  a  sequestered  valley, 
with  a  streamlet  running  through  it,  and  the  green 
of  its  surface  diversified  hy  one  or  two  white  cot- 
tages, or  the  darker  hue  of  olive  groves  and  vine- 
yards; again  it  was  some  little  hamlet  iiir  up  the 
sloping  mountain-side  ;  again  some  mouldering 
tower  would  appear,  perched  upon  some  command- 
ing and  almost  inaccessilile  eminence  —  the  re- 
mains of  a  feudal  castle,  the  monument  of  lawless 
power  t)verthrown  forever.  Someiimes  thoy  wuidd 
pass  through  the  street  of  a  town,  and  have  a 
fresh  opportunity  of  contrasting  the  lazy  and  easy- 
going life  of  Italy  with  the  busy,  energetic,  rest- 
less, and  stirring  life  of  the'r  own  far-distant 
America. 

On  to  Rome  ! 

This  day  was  to  land  them  in  the  '*  Eternal  City ;  " 
and  though  they  enjoyed  the  drive,  still  they  were 
eager  to  have  it  over,  and  to  lind  themselves  in 
that  place  which  was  once  the  centre  of  the  world's 
rule,  and  continued  to  be  so  for  so  many  ages. 
Their  impatience  to  reach  their  destination  was 
not,  however,  excessive,  and  did  not  at  all  i)revent 
them  from  enjoying  to  the  utmost  the  journey  so 
long  as  it  lasted.     Uncle  Closes  was  the  only  ex- 


270 


AMONG    THE    BRIGANDS. 


ceptioii.  He  was  most  eager  to  have  it  over,  and 
reach  snniL'  jtlace  of  rest.  True,  no  acriiliMit  Iiad 
happened:  Imt  he  had  gone  throu<^h  cnonLili  trilni- 
lation,  liotli  ill  liody  and  in  mind,  to  t'liniish  the 
working  material  for  a  (hizeii  very  serious  ac- 
cidents iii(h'ed  :  and  the  general  eflect  ])rodiu'ed 
upon  him  was  precisely  what  might  have  resulted 
from  a  really  jn-rilous  journey. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  town  of  Albano, 
where  they  intended  to  remain  two  hours,  and 
afterwards  resume  their  journey.  The  town  stood 
on  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  the  hotel  at  which  they 
drew  up  was  so  situated  that  it  commanded  a 
boundless  view. 

Few  places  clicrish  a  stronger  local  pride  than 
Albano.  Tradition  identities  this  town  with  no 
less  a  place  than  Alba  Longa,  so  famous  in  early 
Roman  h'gends :  for  though,  according  to  the  old 
account-^  Tullns  FTostilius  destroyed  the  city  proji- 
er  of  Alba  Longa,  yet  afterwards  another  town 
grew  on  its  site,  and  all  around  rose  up  tin; 
splendid  villas  of  the  Kcjman  nobility.  Here,  too, 
Tiberius  an<l  Domitian  had  palaces,  wher*^  they 
BDUglil  irliiMition  from  the  cares  of  empire  in  a 
characteiistic  way. 

On  reaching  this  place,  their  first  care  was  to 
order  dinner,  and  then,  as  there  would  be  some 
time  taken  up  in  jireparation  lor  that  meal,  they 
looked  about  for  sunn'  mode  of  pastime.  The  land- 
lord recommended  to  them  a  visit  to  a  convent  at  the 


THE   MEDITERRANEAN. 


271 


top  of  the  hill.  Ho  informed  them  that  it  stood  on 
the  site  of  a  famous  temple,  and  that  it  was  visited 
every  day  hy  large  numbers  of  travellers.  On 
referring  to  their  guide-book,  the  boys  learned 
that  the  temple  referred  to  by  the  landlord  was 
that  of  the  Latiaii  Jupiter. 

As  they  had  nothing  else  to  do,  they  set  out  for 
the  convent,  and  soon  reached  it.  Arriving  tliere, 
they  found  spread  out  before  them  a  view  which 
surpassed  anything  that  they  had  ever  seen  in 
their  lives.  Far  down  beneath  tiiem  descended 
the  declivity  of  the  Alban  hill,  till  it  teitninated  in 
the  Roman  Cam{)agna.  Then,  far  away  belore  their 
eyes  it  spread  for  inan>'  a  niiic ,  till  it  was  termi- 
nated by  a  long  blue  line,  which  it  needed  not  the 
explanation  of  the  monk  at  their  elbow  to  recog- 
nize as  the  Mediterranean  ;  and  this  blue  line  of 
distant  sea  spread  far  away,  till  it  terminated  in  a 
projecting  promontory,  which  their  guide  told  them 
was  the  Cape  of  Terracina.  Rut  their  attention 
was  arrested  by  an  object  which  was  much  nearer 
than  this.  Through  that  gray  Campagna,  —  whose 
gray  hue,  the  result  of  waste  and  barrenness, 
seemed  also  to  mark  its  hoary  agi\ —  through  this 
there  ran  a  silver  thread,  with  uian\'  a  winding  to 
and  Iro,  now  coming  full  into  view,  and  gleam- 
ing in  till'  sun,  now  retreating,  till  it  was  lost 
to  sight. 

"  What  is  this?"  asked  David. 

"  The  Tiber  !  "  said  the  monk. 


- 1  ^ 


AMONi;    THE    BRIGANDS. 


At  the  mention  of  tliia  august  historic  namo, 
a  thrill  involuntiirily  pnssed  through  them.  The 
Tiber  !  What  associations  clustered  around  thut 
word  ! 

Alojig  this  silver  thread  their  eyes  wandered, 
till  at  length  it  was  lost  for  a  time  in  a  dark,  ir- 
regular mass  of  something.  The  atmosf)here  just 
now  had  grown  slightly  hazy  in  thi.s  direction,  so 
that  they  could  not  make  out  what  this  was,  exact- 
ly ;  whether  a  hill,  or  a  grove,  or  a  town  ;  but  it 
looked  most  like  a  town,  and  tlie  irregularities  and 
projections  seemed  like  towers  and  domes.  Promi- 
nent among  these  projections  was  one  larger  mass, 
which  rose  up  aliove  all  the  others,  and  formed  the 
chief  feature  in  that  indistinct  mass. 

"  What  is  all  that?  "  asked  David,  in  a  hesitating 
way,  like  one  who  suspects  the  truth,  but  does  not 
feel  at  all  sure  about  it. 

"  Dat,"  said  the  guide,  "  dat  is  Rome ;  and  dfit 
black  mass  dat  you  see  is  do  '^'hurch  of  ^t. 
Peter's.  It's  not  clear  to-day  —  some  time  we 
can  see  it  all  plain." 

At  this  the  boys  said  nothing,  but  stood  in 
silence,  looking  up(ui  the  scene.  It  was  one  which 
might  have  stirred  the  .souls  of  even  the  least  emo- 
tional, and  among  this  little  company  there  were 
two,  at  least,  who  were  quick  to  kindle  into  enthu- 
siasm at  the  presence  of  anything  connected  with 
the  storied  past.  These  were  David  and  Clivc, 
who  each,  though  from  difierent  causes,  now  felt 


ENTHUSIASM    OF   THE   BOYS. 


273 


himself  profoundly  moved  by  this  spectacle. 
David's  enthusiadm  was  that  of  a  scholar;  Clive'tJ 
was  that  of  a  poet;  yet  each  was  keen  in  his  sus- 
ceptibility, and  eloquent  in  the  expression  of  his 
I'eclings. 

As  for  Fi-ank  and  Bob,  they  wore  far  less  demon- 
strative ;  and  though  they  had  {)lenty  of  enthusi- 
asm of  their  own,  yet  it  was  not  often  excited 
very  violently  by  either  ])0ctic  feeling  or  classical 
reminiscences.  The  scene  before  them  certainly 
moved  their  feelings  also,  on  the  present  occasion; 
but  they  were  not  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  ex- 
clamatory language,  and  so  they  looked  on  in  quiet 
appreciation,  witlu)Ut  saying  anything. 

Not  so  the  other  two,  David  and  Clive.  Each 
burst  forth  in  his  own  wav. 

"  How  magnificent !  "  cried  Clive.  "  What  a 
boundless  scene  !  How  fortunate  we  are  to  have 
this  for  our  first  view  of  Rome  !  I  don't  believe 
there  is  such  another  sight  in  all  the  M'orld.  But 
what  a  scene  must  have  appeared  from  these 
heights  wlien  Rome  was  in  its  glory  !  " 

'•  Yes,'"  said  David,  chiming  in,  "  such  a  place 
doesn't  exist  anywhere  else  in  all  the  world.  Ic's 
the  cradle  of  history,  and  modern  civilization.  Hero 
is  where  the  mighty  Roman  empire  began.  There 
is  the  Rome  of  the  kings  and  the  consuls;  and 
down  there  is  the  arena,  where  they  fought  out 
that  long  battle  that  arranged  the  course  of  future 
ages." 

18 


274 


AMOXO   THE    BRIGANDS. 


"  Bosidos,"  sail!  Clivo,  "  there  is  the  scene  of  all 
tlie  latter  part  of  tlie  /Eneid,  and  of  all  the  im- 
mortal legends  that  arose  ont  of  the  early  growth 
of  Rome.  What  a  i)lace  this  would  be  to  read 
Macaulay's  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome  1  — 

"  Hail  to  tlic  greiit  asylum  ! 
Hail  to  the  liill-tojjs  seven  ! 
Hail  to  tlio  fire  that  hiirns  for  aye ! 

Ami  the  shields  that  fell  from  heaven!  " 

At  this  moment  Frank's  attention  was  attracted 
to  a  place  not  very  far  away,  where  the  sheen  of 
some  silver  water  flashed  ibrtii  from  amid  the 
dark  green  hue  of  the  surrounding  hills. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  guide.  "  It 
looks  like  a  lake." 

"It  is  de  Alban  Lake." 

"  The  Alban  Lake ! "  cried  David,  in  a  fresh 
transport  of  enthusiasm  ;  "  the  Alban  Lake  !  What, 
the  lake  that  the  Romans  drained  at  the  siege  of 
Veil  ?  " 

"  It  is  de  same,"  said  the  guide. 

"  Is  it  really  ?  and  is  the  canal  or  tunnel  still  in 
existence  ?  " 

"  It  is." 

"  Is  it  far  away  ?  " 

"  Not  ver  far." 

"  Boys,  we  must  go  there.  It  is  the  greatest 
curiosity  of  the  country  al)out  here." 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  I'm  in  for  any  curiosity. 
But  how  long  will  it  take  for  us  to  see  it  ?  " 


THK    A  LB  AN    LAKE. 


It   will    tiiko   more    dan    one    hour,"'    said    tlio 


guido. 


"More  than  an  hour!"  said  Frank.  "Urn  — 
that  won't  do  —  wo've  got  to  go  back  at  once  to 
get  our  ditUKir.  It's  ready  by  this  time,  and  then 
we  nmst  k-avo  for  Rome." 

"  Well,  it's  a  great  pity,"  said  David,  sadly.  "  T 
think  I  should  bo  willing  to  go  without  my  dinner, 
to  see  that  wonderful  tunnel." 

"  I  shouldn't,  then,"  said  Frank,  "  not  for  all  the 
tunnels  in  the  world." 

"  Nor  should  I,"  said  Bob. 

"  But  what  a  magnificent  effect  the  lake  has 
when  embraced  in  our  view  ! "  said  ('live.  "  ITow 
finely  is  the  description  in  Childe  Harold  adapted 
to  this  scene  :  — 


'And  ni'iir,  Alljaiio's  scarce  divided  waves 
Shine  from  a  sister  valley ;  and  afar 
The  Tiber  winds,  and  tlie  broad  ocean  laves 
The  Latian  coast,  where  sprung  the  Epic  war, 
"  Arn)s  and  the  man  "  whose  reasccndinf;  star 
Rose  o'er  an  empire ;   hut  beneath  thy  right 
Fully  reposed  from  Home;  and  where  yon  bar 
Of  {girdling  mountains  intercepts  thy  sight. 
The  Sabine  firm  was  tilled,  the  weary  bard's  delight.'" 

"  Clive,"  said  David,  who  had  waited  patiently 
for  liim  to  finish  his  poetical  quotation,  "you'll 
come  —  won't  you  V  " 

•'  Come  ?     Come  where  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  want  to  visit  the  tunnel  of  the  Alban 


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Pkitographic 

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23  WEST  MAIN  STMET 

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27G 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS, 


Lake,  and  it'll  take  an  hour  to  do  it.  If  we  go, 
we'll  lose  our  dinner.  Wiiat  do  you  say?  You 
dcn't  think  a  dinner's  the  most  important  thing  in 
the  world  ?  " 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Clive.  "  Besides,  we  can 
pick  up  some  scraps  when  wo  return,  and  eat 
them  in  the  carriage." 

"That's  right,"  said  David.  "Boys,"  he  con- 
tinued, appealing  to  Frank  and  Bob,  "  you'd  better 
come." 

"Whatl  and  lose  our  dinners?"  cried  Frank, 
scornfully.  "  Catch  us  at  it.  No.  We  require 
more  substantial  food  than  poetry  and  old  ruins. 
Don't  we,  Bob  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Bob.  "  For  my  part  poetry 
and  old  ruins  never  were  in  my  line.  As  for 
'  Arms  and  the  man '  and  the  '  Sabine  farm,'  why, 
all  I  can  say  is,  I  always  hated  them.  I  detested 
Virgil,  and  Horace,  and  Cicero,  and  the  whole  lot 
of  them,  at  school ;  and  why  I  should  turn  round 
now,  and  pretend  to  like  them,  1  don't  know,  I'm 
sure.  Horace  and  Virgil,  indeed  I  Bother  HoracG 
and  Virgil,  I  say." 

At  such  flippancy  as  this  both  David  and  Clivo 
looked  too  much  pained  to  reply.  They  turned 
away  in  silence,  and  spoke  to  the  guide. 

"  80  you're  not  coming  back  to  dinner  ?  "  said 
Frank. 

"  No,"  said  David  ;  "  we  want  to  see  that  tunnel." 

"  Well,  you'll  lose  your  dinner;  that's  all." 


THE    ALBAN    LAKE, 


277 


"  Of  course.     We  don't  care." 

'*  At  any  rate,  don't  go  and  Ibrget  about  us. 
We  want  to  leave  for  Komo  after  dinner,  and 
you  ought  to  be  back  in  one  Iiour,  at  the  very 
iixrthest." 

"  O,  yes  ;  the  guide  says  it'll  only  take  an  hour. 
We  don't  intend  to  spend  any  more  time  there 
than  we  can  help." 

*'  Well,  I  think  you  ought  to  come  back,"  said 
Bob ;  "  3'ou  know  very  well  how  poor  old  Uncle 
Moses  will  fidget  and  worry  about  you." 

"  O,  no  ;  it's  all  right.  Tell  him  that  the  guide 
is  with  us,  you  know." 

After  a  few  more  words,  Frank  and  Bob,  who 
were  ravenously  hungry,  hurried  back  to  the  hotel, 
and  David  and  Clive,  who  were  also,  to  tell  the 
truth,  equally  hningry,  resisted  their  appetites  as 
well  as  they  were  able,  and  accompanied  their 
guido  to  the  Lake  Albano. 

Most  boys  are  familiar  with  tlie  story  of  the 
Alban  Lake  ;  but  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  may 
not  have  heard  of  it,  or  who,  having  heard,  have 
forgotten,  it  may  be  as  well  to  give  a  brief  account 
of  the  famous  tunnel,  which  was  so  very  attractive 
to  Clive  and  David. 

The  city  of  Veil  had  been  besieged  for  nine 
years,  without  success,  by  the  Romans ;  and  at 
length,  in  the  tenth  year,  a  great  prodigy  occurred, 
in  the  shape  of  the  sudden  rising  of  the  waters  of 
the  Alban  Lake  to  an  extraordinary  height,  with- 


278 


AMONG   THE   BRTOANDS. 


out  any  apparent  cause.  The  Romans,  in  their 
bewiklerment,  sent  a  messenger  to  the  oracle  of 
Delplii  to  inquire  about  it.  Before  this  messenger 
returnee!,  tliey  also  captured  a  Veientine  priest,  who 
informed  tliem  that  there  were  certain  pracular 
books  in  Veil,  which  declared  that  Veii  could  never 
perish  unless  the  waters  of  the  AU)an  Lake  should 
reach  the  sea.  Not  long  afterwards  the  messenger 
returned  from  Delphi,  who  brought  back  an  answer 
from  the  oracle  at  that  place  to  the  same  efTect. 
Upon  this,  the  Romans  resolved  to  draw  off  the 
waters  of  the  lake  so  as  to  let  them  flow  to  the  sea. 
Such  an  undertaking  was  one  of  the  most  lai)orious 
kind,  especially  in  an  age  like  that ;  hut  the  Romans 
entered  upon  it,  and  worked  at  it  with  that  ex- 
traordinary tenacity  of  purpose  which  always  dis- 
tinguished them.  It  was  necessary  to  cut  a  tuimel 
through  the  mountain,  through  rock  of  the  hardest 
possible  description.  But  the  same  age  had  seen 
the  excavation  of  other  subterranean  passages  tar 
larger  than  thi^,  and  in  the  same  country,  pre- 
eminently the  Grotto  of  Posilipo,  at  Naples,  and 
that  of  the  Cuma3an  Sibyl,  and  at  length  it  was  ac- 
complished. The  people  of  Veii  hoard  of  it,  and 
were  filled  with  alarm.  Ambassinlors  were  sent  to 
Rome, with  the  hope  of  inducing  the  Romans  to  come 
to  some  other  terms  less  severe  than  the  surrender 
of  the  city  ;  but  they  were  disappointed,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  legend,  could  only  comfort  themselves 
by  announcing  to  the  Romans  a  prophecy  in  the 


Tin:    ALBAN    LAKE. 


279 


oracular  books  of  Voii,  to  the  cfl'cct  tluit,  if  this 
siege  should  be  carried  through  to  the  capture  of 
the  city,  Rome  itself  should  bo  taken  by  tlie  Gauls 
soon  after.  Tiiis  prophecy,  however,  had  no  efleet 
whatever  upon  the  stern  resolution  of  the  Romans. 
The  subterranean  passage  to  the  lake  was  also 
supplemented  by  another,  which  led  to  the  citadel 
of  Veii.  As  the  time  approached  ibr  the  final 
assault,  the  Roman  Senate  invited  all  the  Roman 
people  to  participate  in  it,  and  promised  them  a 
share  of  the  booty.  This  promise  induced  a  vast 
multitude,  old  and  young,  to  go  there.  The  time 
at  last  came.  The  water  of  the  Alban  Lake  was 
let  out  into  the  tields,  and  the  party  that  entered 
the  subterranean  passage  to  the  citadel  u'ere  led 
by  Camillus,  while,  at  the  same  time,  a  general 
assault  was  made  upon  the  walls  by  the  rest  of  the 
army.  At  that  moment  the  king  of  Veii  happened 
to  be  sacrificing  in  the  Temple  of  Juno,  which  was 
in  the  citadel,  and  Camillus,  with  his  Romans,  were 
immediately  beneath,  close  enough  to  hear  what 
he  said.  It  happened  that  the  attendant  priest 
declared  that  whoever  should  bring  the  goddess 
her  share  of  the  victim  should  conquer.  Camillus 
heard  the  words,  and  at  once  they  burst  forth  upon 
the  astonished  Veientans,  seized  upon  the  altar, 
ofTcr^d  the  sacrifice,  and  thus  performed  what  had 
been  declared  to  be  the  conditions  of  victory. 
After  this  they  held  the  citadel,  and  sent  a  detach- 
ment to  open  the   gates   to  the  assaulting  army 


280 


AMONG   THE   BRIOANDM. 


outside.  Thus  Vcii  foil ;  and  this  ic  tju?  k'gend 
which,  like  many  others  belonging  to  early  Roman 
times,  is  more  full  ol'  poetry  than  of  trutii. 

The  tunnel  still  remains,  and  is  one  of  the  chief 
curiosities  left  from  ancient  times.  It  is  about  two 
miles  long,  six  feet  high,  and  three  and  a  half  feet 
wide. 

To  this  place  the  guide  led  David  and  Clive,  and 
entertained  them  on  the  way  with  the  account  of 
its  origin,  which  accorded  in  most  particulars  with 
that  which  is  given  above ;  and  though  both  of  the 
boys  wore  familiar  with  the  story,  yet  it  was  not 
unpleasant  to  hear  it  again,  told  by  one  who  lived 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  place,  and  had  passed 
his  life  amid  these  scenes.  It  seemed  to  them  to 
give  a  certain  degree  of  authenticity  to  the  old 
legend. 

There  was  not  much  to  see,  exce{)t  an  opening  in 
the  rock,  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  with  rushes,  and 
mosses,  and  grasses,  and  shrubbery  growing  around 
it.  Having  seen  it,  they  were  satisfied,  and  turned 
to  go  back  to  the  hotel.  After  a  short  distance, 
the  guide  showed  them  where  there  was  a  path 
turning  off  through  the  fields,  wiiich  formed  a 
short  cut  back.  Upon  this  they  paid  him  for  his 
trouble,  and  he  went  back  to  the  convent,  while 
they  went  along  the  path  by  which  he  had  directed 
them. 


THE   LONELY    PATH. 


281 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


The  lonely  Path.  —  The  sequestered  Vale.  —  The  old 
House.  —  A  Feudal  Castle.  —  A  baronial  Windmill. 
—  A  mysterious  Sound. —  A  terrible  Discove)y. — At 
Bay.  — The  Wild  Beast's  Lair .'— What  is  It  ?  —  A 
great  Bore! 

% 

1^//^HE  path  by  which  Clive  and  David  returned 

fto  the  hotel,  went  down  a  slope  of  tlio 
hill  into  a  valley,  and  led  over  a  second 
hill,  beyond  which  was  All)ano.  There  were  no 
houses  visible,  for  the  town  was  hidden  by  the 
hill,  except,  of  course,  the  convent,  which,  from 
its  conspicuous  position,  was  never  out  of  sight. 
As  they  descended  into  the  valley,  they  came  to  a 
grove  of  olive  trees ;  and  beyond  this  there  was  a 
ruined  edifice,  built  of  stone,  and  apparently  long 
since  deserted.  It  was  two  stories  in  height,  but 
the  stories  were  high,  and  it  looked  as  though  it 
might  once  have  been  used  for  a  tower  of  some 
sort.  The  attention  of  both  of  the  boys  was  at 
once  arrested  by  it,  and  they  stood  and  looked  at 
it  for  some  time. 

**  I  wonder  what  it  has  been,"  said  David. 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Clive,  "  it  is  the  ruin  of  some 
mediieval  castle." 


282 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


"  It  (Iocs  not  liave  much  of  the  look  of  a  castle." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  0,  why,  there  are  no  architectural  features  in 
it ;  no  battlements  ;  it  has,  in  fact,  a  rather  modern 
uir." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Clive.  "  See  those  old 
stones  grown  over  with  mosp  ;  and  look  at  the  ivy.'" 

"  Yes,  but  look  at  the  windows.  They  didn't 
have  such  large  windows  in  castles,  you  know." 

"Yes,  but  these  windows  ^/ere  probably  made 
afterwards.  The  place  was  once  a  castle  ;  but  at 
length,  of  course  it  became  deserted,  and  began  to 
fall  to  ruins.  Then  somebody  fixed  it  up  for  a 
dwelling-house,  and  made  these  windows  in  the 
walls." 

"  Well,  that's  not  improbable." 

"  Not  improbable  !  Why,  I'm  sure  it's  very  nat- 
ural.    Look  how  thick  the  walls  are  !  " 

"  They  do  seem  pretty  thick." 

"  0,  they  are  real  castle  walls ;  there's  no  doubt 
at  all  about  that,"  said  Clive,  in  a  positive  tone. 
"  Why,  they  are  three  feet  thick,  at  least.  And, 
you  see,  there  are  signs  of  an  additional  story 
having  been  above  it." 

"  Yes,  1  dare  say,"  said  David,  looking  up.  "  The 
edges  there  look  ragged,  as  though  some  upper 
portion  has  been  knocked  off." 

"  And  I  dare  say  it's  been  a  great  place  for  brig- 
ands," said  Clive. 

"0,  bother   brigands,"  saiu   David.     "For   my 


A    FEUDAL    CASTLE. 


283 


part,  I  begin  to  tliink,  not  only  that  there  are  no 
brigands  now,  but  even  that  there  never  have 
been  any  such  people  at  all." 

"  Well,  I  won't  go  so  far  as  that,"  said  Clive, 
"  l)ut  I  certainly  begin  to  have  my  doubts  .about 
them." 

"  They're  all  humbugs,"  said  David. 

"  All  of  our  brigands  have  been  total  failures," 
said  Clive. 

"  Yes,"  said  David  ;  "  they  all  turned  out  to  be 
the  most  au.iible  people  in  the  world.  But  come ; 
suppose  we  go  inside,  and  explore  this  old  ruin. 
It  may  be  something  famous.  I  wish  the  guide 
were  here." 

"  O,  we'll  look  at  it  first  all  over,  and  then  ask 
at  the  hotel." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  way." 

"  But  have  Ave  time  ?  " 

"  0,  of  course  ;  it  won't  take  us  five  minutes,'' 

Upon  this  Clive  started  off"  for  the  ruined  struc- 
ture, followed  by  David. 

It  was,  as  has  been  said,  two  stories  in  height. 
In  the  lower  story  was  a  small,  narrow  doorway. 
The  door  was  gone.  There  were  no  windows,  and 
it  was  quite  dark  inside.  It  was  about  twelve 
feet  wide,  and  fifteen  feet  long.  At  one  end  were 
some  piles  of  fagots  heaped  together.  The  height 
was  about  fifteen  I'eet.  Before  them  they  saw  a 
rude  ladder,  running  up  to  the  story  above.  Its 
feet  rested  near  the  back  of  the  room.    There  was 


284 


AMONO   Tin:    DHKJAND.S. 


no  floor  to  the  house,  but  only  the  hard-packed 
earth. 

"  There's  nothing  here,"  said  Darid,  looking 
around. 

"  Lot's  go  into  the  upper  story,"  said  ('live. 

To  this  proposal  David  assented  (piite  readily; 
and  accordingly  they  both  entered,  and  walked 
towards  the  ladder.  Clive  ascended  first,  and  Da- 
vid ibllowed.  In  a  few  moments  they  were  in  the 
U])per  story. 

Here  it  was  light,  for  there  were  two  windows 
in  front.  There  was  a  floor,  and  the  walls  were 
plastered.  Fragments  of  straw  lay  about,  inter- 
mingled with  chaff,  as  though  the  place  had  been 
used  lor  some  sort  of  a  store-house. 

Overhead  there  were  a  number  of  heavy  beams, 
which  seemed  too  numerous  and  complicated  to 
serve  merely  for  the  support  of  a  roof;  and  among 
tlujm  was  one  largo,  round  beam,  which  ran  across. 
At  this  both  of  the  boys  stared  very  curiously. 

"  I  wonder  what  all  that  can  be  for,"  asked 
David. 

"  0,  no  doul)t,"  said  Clive,  "  it's  some  of  the  mas- 
sive wood-work  of  the  old  castle." 

"  But  what  was  the  good  of  it?  " 

"  Why,  to  support  the  roof,  of  course,"  said 
Clive. 

"  Yes,  but  there  is  too  much.  They  would  never 
have  needed  all  that  to  support  so  small  a  roof. 
It's  a  waste  of  timber." 


A    UAUONIAL    WINDMILL. 


285 


"  0,  well,  you  kwow  you  mustn't  expect  the 
same  ingenuity  in  an  Ituliun  builder  uaiyou  would 
in  iin  Americuu." 

"  1  don't  know  about  that.  Why  not?  Do  you 
mean  to  say  tliat  tlio  Italians  are  interior  to  the 
Americans  in  arciiitecture  ?  Pooh,  man !  in  America 
tiiere  is  no  architecture  at  all ;  while  here,  in  every 
little  town,  they  have  some  edifice  that  in  America 
would  be  considered  something  wonderl'ul." 

"(),  well,  you  know  they  are  very  clumsy  in 
})ractical  matters,  in  spite  of  their  artistic  superi- 
ority. But  apart  from  that,  I've  just  been  think- 
ing that  this  is  only  a  part  of  some  largo  castle, 
and  this  lumber  work  was,  perhaps,  once  the  main 
sui)p()rt  of  a  massive  roof  So,  after  all,  it  would 
have  its  use." 

David  said  nothing  for  some  time.  He  was 
looking  earnestly  at  the  wood-work. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  he,  at  last.  "  I've 
got  it.     It  isn't  a  castle  at  all.     It's  a  windmill." 

"  A  windmill !  "  exclaimed  Clive,  contemptuous- 
ly. "  What  nonsense  !  It's  an  old  tower  —  the 
kee])  of  some  mediieval  castle." 

"  It's  a  windmill !  "  persisted  David.  ''  Look  at 
that  big  beam.  It's  round.  See  in  one  corner 
those  projecting  pieces.  They  were  once  part  of 
Bome  projecting  wheel.  Why,  of  course,  it's  a 
windmill.  The  other  end  of  that  cross-beam  goes 
outside  for  the  fans  to  be  attached  to  it.  This  big 
cross-beam  was  the  shaft.     Of  course  that's  it." 


286 


AMONO   TF?K    lUlir.AXDS. 


Clive  looked  very  much  crost-lUlIon  at  this.  II.- 
was  unahlo  to  disprove  a  fact  of"  whicli  the  <'vi- 
dences  were  now  so  phvin  ;  hut  he  struggled  to 
maintiiin  a  httle  longer  the  rospectahility  of  hisj 
feudal  castle. 

"  Well,'"  said  he.  •'  I  dare  say  it  may  have  liecii 
used  afterwards  for  a  windmill;  hut  1  am  sure  it 
.vas  originally  huilt  as  a  haronial  hall,  some  tiino 
during  the  middle  ages.  Afterwards  it  hfgaii  to 
go  to  ruin  ;  and  then,  I  dare  say,  some  miller  IMIow 
has.  taken  possession  of  the  keep,  and  torn  <i(l'  the 
turrets  aufl  hattlemeiits,  and  rigged  up  this  r<jof 
with  the  beams,  and  tiius  turned  it  int(»  a  wind- 
mill." 

"0,  well,  you  may  be  right,"  said  David.  "Of 
course  it's  impossilile  to  tell." 

"  O,  hut  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Clive,  positively. 

David  laughed. 

"  0,  then,"  said  he,  "  in  that  case,  I've  got  noth- 
ing to  say  about  it  at  all.'' 

In  spite  of  his  reiterated  conviction  in  the  liaro- 
nial  castle,  Clive  was  unable  to  prevent  an  expres- 
sion of  disgust  from  being  discernible  on  his  fine 
face,  and  without  another  word,  he  turned  to  go 
down. 

David  followed  close  after  him. 

As  Clive  put  his  feet  down  on  the  nearest  rung 
of  the  ladder,  ho  was  startled  by  a  noise  b(dow. 
It  came  from  the  pile  of  fagots,  and  was  of  the 
most  extraordinary  character.     It  was  u  shuflling, 


A    BAItONIAL   WINDMILL. 


287 


8('riipii)}j^,  growling,  snapping  noico ;  fin  iiidoscriba- 
Mo  medley  of  peculiar  sonnds. 

Clive  instantly  drew  back  his  foot,  as  though  ho 
had  trodden  on  a  snake. 

"  Wliat's  the  matter  ? "  cried  David,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Didn't  you  hear  it?" 

"Hear  what?" 

«  Why,  that  noise  !  " 

"Noise?" 

"Yes." 

"What  noise?" 

Clive's  eyes  opened  wide,  and  he  said  in  a  low, 
agitated  wiiisper, — 

"  Something's  down  tliere  !  " 

At  tiiis  David's  face  turned  pale.  ITo  knelt 
down  at  the  opening,  and  bent  his  head  over. 

The  sounds,  which  had  ceased  for  a  moment,  be- 
came once  more  audible.  There  was  a  quick,  beat- 
ing, rustling,  rubbing  noise  among  the  fagots,  and 
ho  could  occasionally  hear  the  rap  of  footfalls  on 
the  floor.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  anytiiing,  for  the 
narrow  door  was  the  only  opening,  and  the  end  of 
the  chamber  where  the  fagots  lay  was  wrapped 
in  deep  gloom. 

Clive  knelt  down  too,  and  then  both  boys,  kneel- 
ing there,  listened  eagerly  and  intently  with  all 
their  ears. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Clive. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  David,  gloomily. 


288 


AMONd  THi:  nRl(^^^•^s. 


"Is  it  a  brigand?"  wliispered  Clive,  dismally. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  poor  David,  who,  in 
spite  of  his  recent  declaration  of  his  belief  that  all 
brigands  were  humbugs,  felt  something  like  his  old 
trepidation  at  Clive's  suggestion. 

They  listened  a  little  longer. 

The  noise  subsided  for  a  time,  and  then  began 
again.  This  time  it  was  much  louder  than  before. 
There  was  the  same  rustling,  rubbing,  cracking, 
snapping  sound  made  by  something  among  the  fag- 
ots ;  there  was  a  clatter  as  of  feet  on  the  hard 
ground  ;  then  there  was  a  quick,  reiterated  rub- 
bing ;  then  another  peculiar  noise,  which  sounded 
exactly  like  that  which  a  dog  makes  when  shaking 
himself  violently  after  coming  out  of  the  water. 
After  this  there  was  a  low,  deep  sound,  midway 
between  a  yawn  and  a  growl ;  then  all  was  still. 

David  and  Clive  raised  themselves  softly,  and 
looked  at  one  another. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Clive. 

"Well?"  said  David. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Clive. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  David. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  said  Clive. 

David  shook  his  head.  Then,  looking  down  the 
opening  once  more,  he  again  raised  his  eyes,  and 
fixing  them  with  an  awful  look  on  Clive,  he  said,  in 
a  dismal  tone,  — 

"  It's  not  a  brigand  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Clive,  "  I  don't  think  it  is,  either." 


AT   BAT. 


289 


David  looked  down  again  ;  then  he  looked  up  at 
Clive  with  the  same  exprov'^sion,  and  said  in  the 
same  dismal  tone  as  before,  — 

"  Clive ! " 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  IVs  a  wild  beast ! " 

Clive  looked  back  at  David  with  eyes  that  ex- 
pressed equal  horror,  and  said  not  a  word. 

"  Don't  you  think  so?  "  asked  David. 

"  Yes,"  said  Clive. 

Then :  — 

"  How  can  we  get  down  ?  "  said  David, 
do,  said   Clive. 

"  I  don't  know  ! "  said  David, 
do.  said  Clive. 

Once  more  the  boys  put  their  heads  down  to  the 
hole  and  listened.  The  noises  were  soon  renewed 
■ —  such  noises  as,  — 

Snapynng,  with  variations. 


cracking, 

do. 

deep-brciithing. 

« 

do. 

scratching, 

(I 

do. 

sighing. 

ti 

do. 

yawning, 

tt 

do. 

growling, 

tt 

do. 

grunting, 

u 

do. 

smacking. 

tt 

do. 

thumping, 

u 

do. 

jerking. 

a 

do. 

rattling, 

H 

do» 

19 

290 


AMONG    THr;    IJRTfiANDS. 


pushing,  with  variations. 


sliding, 

do. 

shaking, 

do. 

jerking, 

do. 

twitching, 

do. 

groaning, 

do. 

pattering, 

do. 

rolling. 

do. 

rubbing, 

do. 

together  witli  many  more  of  a  similar  character, 
all  of  which  went  to  indicate  to  the  minds  of  both 
of  the  boys  the  presence  in  that  lower  chamber, 
and  close  by  that  pile  of  fagots,  of  some  animal, 
in  a  state  of  wakefulness,  restlessness,  and,  as  they 
believed,  of  vigilant  watchfulness  and  ferocity. 

"  I  wonder  how  it  got  there,"  said  David.  "  That 
olive  grove  —  that's  it  —  0,  that's  it.  He  saw  us 
come  in  here,  and  followed  us." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clive.  "  He  may  have 
been  among  the  fagots  when  we  came  in,  and  our 
coming  has  waked  him." 

"  I  wonder  that  the  guide  didn't  warn  us." 

"  0,  he  never  thought,  I  suppose." 

"  No ;  he  thought  we  would  keep  by  the  path, 
and  go  straight  to  the  hotel." 

"  What  fools  we  were  !  " 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped  now." 

"  I  wonder  what  it  is,"  said  Clive,  after  another 
anxious  pause. 

"  A  wild  beast,"  said  David,  dismally. 


r 


THE   WILD    beast's   LAIR. 


291 


"  Of  course  ;  but  what  kind  of  a  one  ? " 
"  It  may  be  a  wolf." 

"I  wonder  if  tiiero  are  many  wolves  about 
here.-' 

"  Wolves  ?    Of  course.    All  Italy  is  full  of  them." 

"  Yes,  but  this  beast  has  hard  feet.  Don't  vou 
hear  what  a  noise  he  makes  sometimes  with  his 
feet  ?  A  wolf's  feet  are  like  a  dog's.  I'm  afraid 
it's  something  even  worse  than  a  wolf." 

"  Something  worse  ?  " 

''Yes." 

"  What  can  bo  worse  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  wild  boar.  Italy  is  the  greatest  coun- 
try in  the  world  for  wild  boars." 

After  this  there  followed  a  long  period  of  silence 
and  despondency. 

Suddenly  Clivo  grasped  the  upper  part  of  the 
ladder,  and  began  to  pull  at  it  with  all  his  might. 

'•  What  are  you  trying  to  do  ?  "  asked  David. 

"  Why,  we  might  draw  up  the  ladder,  and  put 
it  out  of  one  of  the  windows,  you  know,  and  get 
out  that  way  —  mightn't  we?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  David.     "  We  might  try." 

Upon  this  both  boys  seized  the  ladder,  and  tried 
to  pull  it  from  its  place.  But  their  efforts  were 
entirely  in  vain.  The  ladder  was  clumsily  made 
out  of  heavy  timbers,  and  their  puny  efforts  did 
not  avail  to  move  it  one  single  inch  from  its  place. 
So  they  soon  desisted,  and  turned  away  in  despair. 
Clive  then  went  to  one  of  the  windows,  and  looked 


202 


AMOXO   THE   BRIGANDS. 


down.  David  followed  him.  They  looked  out  for 
some  time  in  silence. 

"Couldn't  we  let  ourselves  drop  somehow?" 
asked  Clive. 

David  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  nearly  twenty  feet  from  the  window  ledge," 
said  he.  "  and  I'm  afraid  one  of  us  might  break 
some  of  our  bones." 

"  0,  it's  not  so  very  far,"  said  Clive. 

"  Yes,  but  if  we  were  to  drop,  that  wild  boar 
would  hear  us,  and  rush  out  in  a  moment." 

At  this  terrible  suggestion,  Clive  turned  away, 
and  regarded  David  with  his  old  look  oi'  horror. 

"  It's  no  use  trying,"  said  David ;  "  that  horrible 
wild  boar  waked  up  when  we  entered  his  den.  He 
saw  us  going  up,  and  has  been  watching  ever 
since  for  us  to  come  down.  They  are  the  most 
ferocious,  most  pitiless,  and  most  cruel  of  all  wild 
beasts.  Why,  if  we  had  the  ladder  down  from  the 
window,  and  could  get  to  the  ground,  he'd  pounce 
upon  us  before  we  could  get  even  as  far  as  the 
path." 

Clive  left  the  window,  and  sat  down  in  despair, 
leaning  against  the  wall,  while  David  stood  st-  . '  g 
blankly  out  into  vacancy.  Their  position  was  now 
not  merely  an  embarrassing  one.  It  seemed  dan- 
gerous in  the  extreme.  From  this  place  they  saw 
no  sign  of  any  human  habitation.  They  could  not 
see  the  convent.  Albano  was  hidden  by  the  hill 
already  spoken  of;  nor  had  they  any  idea  how  far 


A   GREAT   BORE. 


293 


away  it  might  be.  This  path  over  wliich  tliey  had 
gone  had  not  appeared  Hko  one  wliich  was  mucli 
nsed  ;  and  how  long  it  niignt  bo  before  any  passers- 
by  would  approach  was  more  tlian  they  could  tell. 

"  Well/'  said  Clive,  "  we've  lost  our  dinner,  and 
it's  my  firm  belief  that  we'll  lose  our  tea,  too." 

David  made  no  reply. 

Clive  arose,  and  walked  over  to  him. 

"  Dave,"  said  he,  '•  lot)k  hero.  I'm  getting  des- 
perate. I've  a  great  mind  to  go  down  the  ladder 
as  quietly  as  possiljle,  and  then  run  fur  it." 

"  No,  don't  —  don't,"  cried  David,  earnestly. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  stay  here  and  starve  to 
death,"  said  Clive. 

"  Pooh  !  don't  be  impatient,"  said  David.  "  Of 
course  they'll  hunt  us  up,  and  rescue  us.  Only 
wait  a  little  longer." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  If  they  don't  come  soon, 
I'll  certainly  venture  down." 

After  an  hour  or  so,  during  which  no  help  came, 
Clive  did  as  he  said,  and,  in  spite  of  David's  re- 
monstrances, ventured  down.  lie  went  about  half 
way.  Then  there  was  a  noise  of  so  pccvdiai'  a 
character  that  he  suddetdy  retreated  up  again,  and 
remarked  to  David,  who  all  the  time  had  been 
watching  him  in  intense  anxiety,  and  begging  him 
to  come  back, — 

"  Well,  Tave,  perhaps  I'd  better  wait.  They 
ought  to  be  here  before  hmg." 

So  the  two  prisoners  waited. 


294 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Despair  of  Uncle  Moses.  —  Frank  and  Boh  endeavor  to 
offer  Consolation. — Tlie  Sean/i.  —  The  Discovery  at  the 
Convent.  —  The  Guide.  —  Tlie  old  House.  —  The  Cap- 
tives. —  The  Alarm  given.  —  Flii^ht  of  Uncle  Moses  and 
his  Party.  —  Albans!  to  the  Rescue  !  —  The  Delivering 
Host  / 


^^i^JVN  leaving  the  convent,  Frank  and  Bob  had 
^'AjW  hurried  back  to  Albano,  where  they  found 
dinner  ready,  and  Uncle  Moses  waiting  lor 
them  in  anxious  impatience.  This  anxious  im- 
patience was  not  by  any  means  diminished  when 
he  saw  only  two  out  of  the  four  coming  back  to 
him,  nor  was  it  alleviated  one  whit  when  they 
informed  him  that  David  and  Clivo  had  gone  to 
see  some  subterranean  passage,  of  the  nature  or 
location  of  which  they  had  but  the  vaguest  possible 
conception.  His  first  impulse  was  to  go  forth  at 
once  in  search  of  them,  and  bring  them  back  with 
him  by  main  force ;  and  it  was  only  with  extreme 
difficulty  that  Frank  and  Bob  dissuaded  him  from 
this. 

"  Why,  they're  perfectly  safe  —  as  safe  as  if  they 
were    here,"    said  Frank.     '*  It   isn't   possible  for 


DESPAIR  OF   UNCLE   MOSES. 


295 


anything  at  all  to  happen  to  them.  The  convent 
guide  —  a  monk  —  is  with  them,  and  a  very  fine 
fellow  ho  is,  too.    He  knows  all  about  the  country." 

"  0,  yes  ;  but  those  monks  ain't  to  my  taste.  I 
I  don't  like  'em,"  said  Uncle  Moses. 

"  It'll  take  them  an  hour  to  get  back  here  from  the 
place.  There's  no  use  for  you  to  try  to  go  there,  for 
you  don't  know  the  way ;  and  if  you  did  go,  why, 
they  might  come  back  and  find  you  gone,  and  then 
we'd  have  to  wait  for  you.  So,  you  see,  the  best 
thing  to  do,  Uncle  Moses,  is  foi  us  all  to  set  quiet- 
ly down,  got  our  dinner,  and  wait  for  them  to 
come  back." 

The  niimerous  frights  which  Uncle  Moses  had 
already  been  called  on  to  ex])erience  about  his 
precious  but  too  troublesome  charges  had  always 
turned  out  to  be  groundless  ;  and  the  result  had 
invariably  been  a  happy  one ;  yet  this  did  not  at 
all  prevent  Uncle  Moses  from  feeling  as  anxious, 
as  worried,  and  as  imsettled,  on  this  occasion,  as  he 
had  ever  been  before.  lie  sat  down  to  the  table, 
therefore,  because  Frank  urged  it,  and  he  hardly 
knew  how  to  move  without  his  coiiperation.  He 
said  nothing.  lie  was  silenced,  but  not  convinced. 
He  ate  nothing.  Ho  merely  dallied  with  his  knife 
and  fork,  and  played  listlessly  with  the  viands  upon 
his  plate.  Frank  and  J3ob  were  l)oth  as  hungry  as 
hunters,  and  for  some  time  had  no  eyes  but  for 
their  Ibod.  At  last,  however,  they  saw  that  Uncle 
Moses  was  eating  notliing  ;  whereui)0u  they  began 


296 


AMONG   THfl    BRIGANDS. 


to  remonstrate  with  him,  and  tried  very  earnestly 
to  induce  liim  to  take  something.  In  vain.  Uncle 
Moses  was  beyond  the  reach  of  persuasion.  Ilia 
appetite  was  gone  with  his  wandering  boys,  and 
woukl  not  come  back  until  they  should  come  also. 

The  dinner  ended,  and  then  Uncle  Moses  grew 
more  restless  than  ever.  He  walked  out,  ami 
paced  the  street  up  and  down,  every  little  while 
coming  back  to  the  hotel,  and  looking  anxiously  in 
to  see  if  the  wanderers  had  returned.  Frank  and 
Bob  felt  sorry  that  he  should  feel  so  much  un- 
necessary anxiety,  but  they  did  not  know  what  to 
do,  or  to  say.  They  had  done  and  said  all  that 
they  possibly  could.  Uncle  Moses  refused  to  i)e 
comforted,  and  so  there  was  nothing  more  for 
them  to  do. 

At  length  the  hour  passed  which  Frank  had 
allotted  as  the  time  of  their  absence,  and  still  they 
did  not  come.  Uncle  Moses  now  came,  and  stared 
at  them  with  a  disturbed  face  and  trembling  frame. 
He  said  not  a  word.  The  situation  was  one  which, 
to  his  mind,  rendered  words  useless. 

"  0,  come  now,  Uncle  Moses,"  said  Frank ; 
"  they're  all  right.  What's  the  use  of  imagining 
all  sorts  of  nonsense  ?  Suppose  they  are  delayed 
a  few  minutes  longer  —  what  of  that?  They 
couldn't  reckon  upon  being  back  in  exactly  an 
hour.  The  guide  said,  '  about  an  hour.'  You'll 
have  to  make  some  allowance." 

Uncle  Moses  tried  to  wait  longer,  and  succeeded 


THK    SKARCII. 


297 


in  controlling  himself  for  about  half  an  hour  more. 
Then  he  found  inaction  intolerable,  and  insisted 
on  Frank  and  Bob  accompanying  him  on  a  search 
for  the  lost  ones.  Frank  suggested  the  necessity 
of  going  to  the  convent  first,  and  getting  another 
guide.  He  left  word  at  the  hotel  where  they  had 
gone,  and  why,  so  that  David  and  Clive  might 
follow  them,  or  send  word  ;  and  then  they  all  three 
set  forth  for  the  convent. 

On  reaching  the  place,  the  first  man  that  they 
saw  was  no  other  than  the  guide  himself.  At  this 
sight  even  Frank  was  amazed,  and  a  little  dis- 
turbed.    He  asked  him  hurriedly  where  the  boys 

were. 

"  De  boys  ?  "  said  the  guide.    "  Haf  dey  not  come 

to  de  hotel  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  I  did  leave  dem  on  de  road  to  go  back, 
and  dey  did  go.     Dey  must  be  back." 

"  But  they're  not  back.  And  I  want  to  hunt 
them  up,"  said  Frank.  "  Where  was  the  road 
where  you  say  you  left  them  ?  " 

"  1  will  go  myself  and  show  you  de  ver  place," 
said  the  guide.  "  Do  not  fear.  Dere  can  come  no 
harm.     It  is  not  possibile." 

With  these  words  the  guide  set  forth  to  take 
them  to  the  place.  These  words  of  the  guide 
added,  if  possible,  to  the  deep  distress  and  dismay 
of  Uncle  Moses.  He  was  only  conscious  now  that 
the  boys  were  without  any  guide  in  some  unknown, 


298 


AMONG   TFIR    BRKJAXDS. 


porliaps  dixnic:;erou8  place.  If  he  fbfired  wliilo  ho 
supposcil  thiit  they  ha<l  u  gui(h;,  his  tears  un- 
der these  new  and  worse  circum.stanceH  wore  tar 
greater. 

On  the  way  the  guide  explained  all  about  it.  lie 
told  about  the  tunnel,  about  the  path  which  ho  h;v^ 
recommended  as  a  short  cut.  lie  declared  that  it 
was  perfectly  straight,  and  that  it  was  impossible 
tor  any  one  to  get  lost  between  Albano  and  the 
place  where  he  left  them.  There  was  no  place,  he 
declared,  for  tliom  to  get  lost  in.  It  was  quite 
open  —  a  little  valley —  that  was  all. 

But  this  gave  no  comfort  to  poor  Uncle  Moses. 
He  walked  along  looking  ten  years  older,  with  his 
iiice  full  of  grief.  At  length  the  guide  came  to  the 
path  along  which  he  had  sent  David  and  Clive,and 
turning  into  this,  he  walked  along  in  the  direction 
where  he  had  seen  them  go. 

"  We  haf  now,"  he  said,  "  to  walk  to  de  hotel  at 
Albano,  and  you  gall  tind  dey  did  come  back,  and 
will  be  dere  at  dis  moments." 

"  What  a  joke  it  would  be,"  cried  Frank,  "  if 
they  have  got  back,  and  have  started  ofT  after  us  ! 
I  wonder  whether  they  would.  Not  they.  I  don't 
believe  it.  They're  starving,  and  will  think  of 
nothing  but  their  dinners." 

But  poor  Uncle  Moses  refused  to  see  any  "joke  " 
at  all.  It  was  a  deeply  solemn  reality  to  his  poor, 
distracted  breast. 

At  length  they  came  within  sight  of  the  house. 


THK   SKARC'ir. 


299 


Aa  thoy  walked  on,  there  came  to  their  ears  a  long, 
shrill  yell.  All  of  them  started.  At  first  they  did 
not  detect  the  source  of  the  sound. 

Then  it  was  repeated. 

"  Ilallo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  !  " 

They  looked  all  around,  Frank  saw  two  figures, 
one  at  each  Avindow  of  the  old  house. 

"  ITallo-o-o-(j-o-o-o-o-()-o-o !  " 

The  cry  was  repeated.  It  came  from  these  two 
figures.  Those  must  be  David  and  Clivo ;  but 
how  in  the  name  of  wonder  had  they  got  there,  and 
what  were  they  (h)ing?  But  he  said  not  a  word. 
Ho  merely  pointed,  and  then  started  off  at  a  full 
run,  followed  first  by  Bob,  then  by  the  guide,  and 
last  by  Uncle  Moses,  who  did  not  yet  comprehend 
why  Frank  was  running,  or  where. 

A  smart  run  of  only  a  few  minutes  brought  them 
to  the  place.  There  they  saw  David  at  one  win- 
dow, and  Clive  at  the  other.  Both  of  thera  ap- 
peared to  be  tremendously  excited,  and  were 
shouting  to  them  most  vociferously,  both  together, 
in  an  utterly  confused  and  unintelligible  manner. 
At  length  some  words  in  the  midst  of  their  out- 
cries became  distinguishable. 

'•  Keep  back  !  0,  keep  back  !  The  wild  boar  I 
The  wild  boar  !  Run  lor  help  !  Keep  back  !  You'll 
be  torn  to  pieces  !     Keep  back  !     Run  for  help." 

At  this  Uncle  Closes  shrank  back  in  spite  of  him- 
self, and  the  guide  looked  nuich  disturbed  ;  but 
Frank  and  Bob  stubbornly  stood  their  ground. 


300 


AMONG   TMK    BRK'ANDS. 


"Wliiit  do  you  mean?"  cried  Frank.  "Don't 
kick  up  such  a  row.  What  wild  boar  ?  Where 
is  he?" 

"  l-ndorneath  !  "  bawled  Clive. 

"  Pie's  watching  us,"  shouted  David. 

"  lie  was  hid  in  there,  and  wo  came  in  Htnl 
waked  him.  We  got  up  hero,  and  he  won't  let 
us  out !  " 

"  He'll  spring  at  you  if  you  come  any  nearer," 
shouted  David. 

"  Keep  back  !  0,  keep  back  !  I  hear  him  now," 
bawled  Clive. 

"  Go  and  get  lielp  !  "  cried  David.  "  Get  a  gun 
—  or  something  !  " 

"  Help  us  out  soon,"  cried  Clive  ;  "  we're  starv^ 
ing ! " 

"  Keep  back  !  "  cried  Clive. 
do.  cried  David. 

"  Go  and  get  help  !  '*  cried  Clive. 
do.  cried  David. 

"  Get  a  gun  !  "  cried  Clive. 
do.  cried  David. 

"Help!"  cried  Clive. 
do.        cried  David. 

"  Take  care  !  "  cried  Clive. 
do.  cried  David. 

"  F'jll  tear  you  to  pieces  !  "  cried  Clive. 
do.  cried  David. 

Etc.,  etc.,  etc. ! 

"  Come  back,"  said   the  guide,  in  evident  anx- 


I 


t:ie  old  iiousf. 


301 


iety.     "  Wo  are  too  noar.     We  can  do  notin'.     Wo 
mus  friit  arm." 

"  But  (]()  you  think  there  really  is  a  wild  boar 
there  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

The  guide  said  nothing,  but  shook  his  head 
solemnly,  and  looked  unutterable  things.  Mean- 
while he  continued  to  retreat,  watching  the  small 
door  ol'  the  old  house,  and  the  rest  followed  him,  as 
they  thought  he  knew  better  what  ought  to  be 
done  than  they  did.  The  guide  took  up  that  line 
of  retreat  which  led  towards  Albano,  and  as  he  did 
so  he  watched  the  door  of  the  house  with  evident 
anxiety,  as  though  fearful  of  seeing  at  any  moment 
the  formidable  beast  bound  forth  to  rush  upon 
them.  But  at  length,  after  he  had  placed  a  con- 
siderable distance  between  himself  and  the  old 
house,  he  began  to  breathe  more  freely,  and  to 
think  about  what  ought  next  to  be  done. 

"  Do  you  think  it  really  is  a  wild  boar?  "  asked 
Frank  once  more  of  the  guide. 

''  Dey  did  say  dat  dey  did  see  him,"  said  he. 

"Yes;  but  how  do  they  know?  They  never 
saw  a  wild  boar,"  objected  Frank. 

"  Any  man  dat  sees  a  wild  boar  will  know  him," 
said  the  guide. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  there  were  any  about 
here." 

"About  here?" 

"  Yes ;  so  near  the  town,  and  public  roads.  I 
thought  that  an  animal  like  tho  wild  boar  prefers 


302 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


the  most  solitary  places,  and  will  never  come  near 
where  men  are  living." 

"  Dat  is  right,"  said  the  guide.  "  Dat  is  so. 
Bot  sommataime  dey  go  wild  —  dey  lose  der 
young  —  or  sommatin  like  dat,  so  dey  go  wild,  and 
wander,  an  if  dey  happen  to  come  near  a  villa,  dey 
are  terrible." 

"  But  how  could  this  one  have  come  here  ?  " 

"  Italia  is  full  of  dem  —  dey  wander  about  like 
dis." 

"  But  they  live  so  far  off." 

"  0,  no ;  dis  one  come  from  do  mountain  —  not 
far  —  dat  old  house  in  de  valley,  just  de  })lace  for 
his  den." 

After  this  Frank  could  doubt  no  longer,  although 
he  had  been  so  obstinate  in  his  disbelief.  The 
afl'air  of  the  previous  night  had  produced  a  power- 
ful effect  on  his  mind  ;  and  he  was  exceedingly  un- 
willing to  allow  himself  again  to  be  beguiled  into 
a  belief  in  any  danger  that  was  not  real.  Had  the 
guide  not  believed  this  so  firmly,  and  insisted  on 
it  80  strongly,  he  would  have  felt  certain  that  the 
animal  in  the  house  was  some  commonplace  one  — 
a  goat  —  a  dog  —  anything,  rather  than  a  wild 
boar.  However,  as  it  was,  he  had  nothing  left  but 
to  believe  what  was  said. 

As  for  Uncle  Moses,  he  was  now  quite  himself 
again.  The  boys  were  safe,  at  any  rate.  True, 
they  were  confined  in  the  loft  of  an  old  house, 
with  a  ferocious  wild  beast  barring  the   way  to 


THE   CAPTIVES. 


303 


liberty  ;  but  then  he  reflected  that  this  ferocious 
wild  beast  could  nut  get  near  them.  Had  it  been 
a  bear,  the  affair  would  have  been  most  serious ; 
but  a  wild  boar,  as  he  knew,  could  not  climb  into 
a  loft.  For  among  the  intelligence  which  David 
and  Clive  had  managed  to  coumumicate,  was  the 
very  reassuring  fact  that  the  boar  could  not  get  at 
them,  as  the  loft  was  only  reached  by  a  ladder. 
The  return  to  Albano  was  in  every  way  satisfac- 
tory to  his  feelings,  for  he  saw  that  this  was  the 
only  way  oi  delivering  the  boys,  who  could  not  be 
rescued  without  some  more  formidable  arms  than 
their  own  unassisted  strength. 

In  a  short  time  they  were  back  in  Albano,  and 
soon  the  news  flew  about  the  town.  In  accord- 
ance with  the  invariable  rule,  the  story  was  con- 
siderably enlarged  as  it  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  so  that  by  the  time  it  reached  the  last  per- 
son that  heard  it,  —  a  poor  old  bed-ridden  priest, 
by  the  av;\v,  —  it  had  grown  to  the  following 
highly  respectable  dimensions:  — 

Two  wealthy  English  milors  had  gone  into  the 
Alban  tunnel  in  search  of  adventures.  While 
down  there  they  had  discovered  the  lair  of  a  wild 
boar,  and  had  killed  the  young,  the  old  ones  being 
away.  They  had  then  made  good  their  retreat, 
carrying  their  slaughtered  victims  with  them.  The 
wild  boar  had  returned  with  the  wild  sow,  and  both, 
scenting  their  young  pigs'  blood  in  the  air,  had 
given  chase   to  the  murderers.     These   last   had 


304 


AMONG  THE   BRIGANDS. 


fled  in  frantic  haste,  and  had  just  succeeded  in 
finding  a  refuge  in  the  old  windmill,  and  in  climbing 
into  the  upper  loft  as  the  infuriated  animals  came 
up.  Seeing  the  legs  of  the  murderers  just  vanish- 
ing up  into  tlie  hole,  one  of  the  beasts  had  leaped 
madly  upward,  and  had  bitten  off  a  portion  of  the 
calf  of  the  leg  of  one  of  them.  Then,  in  sullen 
vengeance,  the  two  fierce  animals  took  up  their 
station  there,  one  in  the  chamber  below,  the  other 
in  front  of  the  door,  to  guard  their  prey,  and  effect 
their  destruction.  They  iiad  already  been  there  a 
week.  One  of  the  prisoners  had  died  from  the 
effects  of  his  terrible  wound,  and  the  other  was 
now  dying  of  starvation.  Fortunately,  Brother 
Antonio  (the  guide)  had  been  told  about  this  in  a 
vision  the  night  before,  had  visited  the  surviving 
niilor,  had  talked  with  him  from  a  safe  distance, 
had  seen  the  terrible  animals,  and  had  now  come 
to  Albano  to  get  help  towards  releasing  the  un- 
happy survivor. 

From  the  above  it  may  readily  be  conjectured 
that  the  call  for  help  was  not  made  in  vain.  The 
sufferings  of  the  im})risoned  ca[)tive  excited  uni- 
versal sympathy,  and  the  presence  of  the  wild 
boars  in  so  close  proximity,  filled  all  men  with  a 
desire  to  capture  them  or  slay  thorn.  The  story 
that  was  generally  believed  was  one  which  may 
be  briefly  described  as  occupying  a  position  some- 
where about  midway  between  the  above  startling 
fiction  and  the  truth.     Such  as  it  was,  it  had  the 


THE   DELIVERINO    HOST. 


305 


effect  of  drawing  forth  the  popuhition  of  All.ano 
as  it  had  never  been  drawn  forth  before  ;  and  as 
they  went  forth  they  presented  a  scene  such  as 
those  of  which  the  iTiedia3val  legends  tell  us, 
where  the  whole  population  of  some  town  which 
liad  been  desolated  by  a  dragon,  went  forth  en 
masse  to  do  battle  with  the  monster. 
So  they  now  marched  forth,  — 
Men  with  scythes. 


do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
do. 
d- 
Jlo. 
do. 
do. 
20 


« 

it 

(I 
it 

a 
a 
u 
u 
u 
a 
a 
<( 
it 
ti 
a 
ti 
ii 
a 
a 
u 


hoes. 

rakes. 

shovels. 

tongs. 

gridirons. 

brooms. 

bean-poles. 

carving-knives. 

umbrellas. 

stones. 

earthen  pans. 

bricks. 

charcoal. 

chairs. 

spits. 

bed-posts. 

crowbars. 

augers. 

st)ades. 

stakes. 

clubs. 


306 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Men  with  staves, 
do.      "     opera-glasses. 

sickles. 

colters. 

ploughshares. 

wheelbarrows. 

pitchforks. 

posts. 

beams. 

bolts. 

bars. 

hinges. 

pokers. 

saucepans. 

mallets. 

hammers. 

saws. 

chisels. 

ropes. 

chains. 

grappling  irons, 
together  with  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  articles 
snatched  up  at  a  moment's  warning  by  an  excited 
multitude,  men,  women,  and  cliiJdrcn,  headed  by- 
Frank,  who  wielded  triumphantly  an  old  fowling- 
piece,  loaded  with  a  double  charge,  that  could  do 
no  damage  to  any  one  save  the  daring  individual 
that  might  venture  to  discharge  it. 


do. 

u 

do. 

u 

do. 

it 

do. 

li 

do. 

ti 

do. 

ti 

do. 

It 

do. 

11 

do. 

u 

do. 

u 

do. 

a 

do. 

ii 

do. 

11 

do. 

It 

do. 

it 

do. 

It 

do. 

tt 

do. 

It 

do. 

tt 

THE  CHASE  OF  THE  WILD  BOAR. 


307 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


Arma  Virumque  cano  !  —  The  Chase  of  the  Wild  Boar  !  — 
The  Prisoners  at  the  Window.—  The  Alban  Artny.— 
Wild  Uproar.  —  Three  hundred  and  sixty-Jive  Pocket 
Handkerchiefs.  —  Flame.  —  Smoking  out  the  Monster.  — 
A  Salamander. 

RMA  puorosquc  cano ! 

Sing,   0   muse,    the    immortal  Albanian 
Boar  Hunt ! 

How  outside  the  doomed  town  of  Albano  lurked 
the  mighty  monster  in  his  lair. 

How  the  frightened  messengers  roused  the  peo- 
ple to  action. 

How  the  wliolo  population,  Ptimulatcd  to  deeds 
of  bold  emprise,  grasped  each  the  weapon  that 
lay  nearest,  whether  bolt,  or  bar,  or  tool  of  me- 
chanic, or  implement  of  husbandry,  and  then,  join- 
ing their  forces,  went  forth  to  do  battle  against 
the  Fell  Destroyer, 

How  tlie  pallid  victims,  imprisoned  in  the  top- 
most tower,  gazed  with  staring  eyes  upon  the 
mighty  delivering  host,  and  shouted  out  blessings 
upon  their  heads. 

How  the  sight  of  the  pallid  victims  cheered  the 


308 


AMONG   THE    BUKJANDS. 


bold  deliverers,  and  drew  them  nearer  to  the  lair 
of  the  monster. 

And  so  forth. 

Very  well. 

To  resume. 

Stationed  at  the  window,  David  and  Clive  saw 
their  friends  vanish  in  the  direction  of  Albano,  and 
knew  that  thoy  had  gone  for  help.  Tliis  thought 
so  cheered  them,  that  in  spite  of  a  somewhat  pro- 
tracted absence,  they  bore  up  well,  and  diversified 
the  time  between  watchings  at  the  window,  and 
listenings  at  the  head  of  the  ladder.  From  tiie 
window  nothing  was  visible  for  a  long  time  ;  but 
from  the  head  of  the  ladder  there  came  up  at  in- 
tervals such  sounds  as  indicated  that  the  fierce 
wild  boar  was  still  as  restless,  as  ruthless,  as  hun- 
gry, and  as  vigilant  as  ever. 

Then  came  up  to  their  listening  ears  the  same 
sounds  already  described,  together  with  hoarser 
tones  of  a  more  pronouncedly  grunting  descrip- 
tion, which  showed  more  truly  that  the  beast  was 
in  very  truth  a  wild  boar.  But  Clive  did  not  ven- 
ture down  again,  nor  did  he  even  mention  the 
subject.  His  former  attempt  had  been  most  satis- 
factory, since  it  satisfied  him  that  no  other  attempt 
could  be  thought  of.  In  spite  of  this,  however, 
both  the  boys  had  risen  to  a  more  cheerful  frame 
of  mind.  Their  future  began  to  look  brighter, 
and  the  prospect  of  a  rescue  served  to  ])ut  them 
both  into  comparative  good  humor,  the  only  draw- 
back to  which  was  their  now  ravenous  hunger. 


THE    PBISONEUa    AT   THE   WINDOW. 


309 


At  length  the  army  ol"  their  deliverers  appeared, 
and  David,  who  was  watching  at  the  window, 
shouted  to  Clive,  who  was  listening  at  the  open- 
ing, whereupon  the  latter  rushed  to  tlie  other 
window. 

The  delivering  host  drew  nigh,  and  then  at  a 
respectable  distance  halted  and  surveyed  the  scene 
of  action. 

Frank  and  Bob  came  on,  however,  without  stop- 
ping, followed  by  Uncle  iMoses,  after  whom  came 
the  guide.  Frank  with  his  old  fowling-piece.  Bob 
with  a  pitchfork,  Uncle  Moses  witii  a  scythe,  and 
the  guide  with  a  rope.  What  each  one  proposed 
to  do  was  doubtful ;  but  our  travellers  had  never 
been  strong  on  weapons  of  war,  and  tlie  generous 
Alban  people  seemed  to  be  in  the  same  situation. 

As  Frank  and  his  companions  moved  nearer,  the 
rest  of  the  multitude  took  courage  and  followed, 
though  in  an  irregular  fashion. 

Soon  Frank  came  near  enough  to  speak. 

"  Is  he  there  yet?"  was  his  first  remark. 

"  Yes,"  said  Clive. 

«  Where  ?  " 

"  At  the  left  end  of  the  lower  room,  under  a  pile 

of  fagots," 

"  Can't  you  manage  to  drive  him  out,  so  that  I 
can  get  a  shot  at  him?"  asked  Frank,  proudly 
brandishing  his  weapon, 

"  0,  no.     Wo  can't  do  anything," 

"  I  wish  you  could,"  said  Frank. 


310 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


"  I  wish  we  could  too."  said  David,  fervently. 

Upon  this  Frank  talked  with  the  guide.  Tli'j 
question  was,  Avhat  should  they  do  now  ?  The 
most  desirable  thing  was,  to  draw  the  wild  beast 
out  of  his  lair,  so  that  they  ruiglit  have  a  fair 
chance  with  him;  but,  unfortunately,  the  wild 
beast  utterly  refused  to  move  from  his  lair. 

After  some  talk  with  his  guide,  Frank  suggested 
that  a  large  number  of  the  crowd  should  go  to  tlie 
rear,  and  the  left  end  of  the  house,  and  strike  at 
it,  and  utter  appalling  cries,  so  as  to  frighten  the 
wild  boar  and  drive  him  out.  This  jjroposal  the 
guide  explained  to  the  crowd,  who  at  once  pro- 
ceeded with  the  very  greatest  alacrity  to  act  upon 
it.  Most  of  them  were  delighted  at  the  idea  of 
fighting  the  enemy  in  that  fashion ;  and  so  it  hap- 
pened that  the  entire  crowd  took  up  their  station 
in  a  dense  mass  at  the  rear  of  the  building ;  and 
then  they  proceeded  to  beat  upon  the  walls  of  the 
house,  to  shout,  to  yell,  and  to  utter  such  hideous 
sounds,  that  any  ordinary  animal  would  simply 
have  gone  mad  with  fright,  and  died  on  the  spot. 
But  this  animal  proved  to  be  no  ordinary  one  in 
this  respect.  Either  he  was  accustomed  to  strange 
noises,  or  else  he  had  such  nerves  of  steel,  that 
the  present  uproar  affected  him  no  more  than  the 
sighing  of  tlie  gentlest  summer  breeze  ;  indeed, 
David  and  Clivc  were  far  more  affected,  for  at  the 
first  outl)reak  of  that  tumultuous  uproar,  they 
actually  jumped  from   the  floor,  and  thought  that 


THE   A  LEAN    ARMY, 


311 


the  rickety   old  house  was  tumbling  about  their 


ears. 


During  this  proceeding,  Frank  stood  bravely  in 
front  of  the  door,  about  a  dozen  yards  ofl',  with  his 
rusty  fowling-piefo  ;  and  close  beside  him  stood 
Bob  with  his  pitclifork.  Uncle  Moses  with  his 
scythe,  and  the  guide  with  his  rope. 

"  He  doesn't  care  for  this  at  all,"  said  Frank,  in 
a  dejected  tone.  "  Wo  must  try  something  else. 
What  shall  we  do?'' 

And  saying  this,  he  turned  once  more  and  talked 
with  the  guide. 

Meanwhile  David  and  Clive,  who  had  recovered 
their  equanimity,  rushed  to  tlie  opening,  and  began 
to  assist  their  friends  by  doing  what  they  could 
to  frighten  the  wild  boar. 

"  Siioo-o-o-o-o-o  !  "  said  David. 

"  Hs-s-8-8-s-s-s  ! "  said  Clive. 

"  Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o  !  "  said  David. 

"  Gr-r-r-r-r-r  !  "  cried  Clive. 

But  the  wild  boar  did  not  move,  even  though 
the  uproar  without  still  continued. 

Then  Clive  wont  down  the  ladder  a  little  dis- 
tance, far  enough  down  so  that  by  bending,  his 
head  was  below  the  upper  floor.  Then  he  took  his 
hat  and  hurled  it  with  all  his  might  and  main  at 
the  pile  of  fagots. 

Then  he  went  up  again. 

But  the  Avild  boar  did  not  move. 

Thereupon  David  went  down,  and  he  went   a 


312 


AMOXC    THE    HRIGANna. 


little  lower.  He  took  his  hat,  and  uttering  a  hide- 
ous yell,  he  threw  it  with  all  his  I'orce  at  the 
fagots. 

But  even  this  failed  to  alarm  the  wild  boar.  Da- 
vid stood  for  a  moment  after  this  bold  deed  and  lis- 
tened. The  only  satisfaction  that  he  had  was  the 
sound  of  a  low,  comfortable  grunt,  that  seemed  to 
show  that  the  present  situation  was  one  which  was 
ratlier  enjoyed  than  otherwise  by  this  formidable, 
this  indomitable,  this  invincible  beast. 

Tliey  came  back  to  the  windows  in  despair,  and 
by  this  time  Frank  had  finished  his  discussion  with 
the  guide.  He  was  looking  up  anxiously  towards 
them. 

"  Look  here,"  said  he  ;  "  that  miserable  wild 
boar  won't  come  out.  The  guide  thinks  the  only 
way  to  get  at  him  is  to  smoke  him  out.  The  only 
trouble  is  about  you.  Will  the  smoke  bother  you, 
do  3'ou  tiiink  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clive. 

"  Can  you  stop  up  the  opening  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Can  you  keep  your  heads  out  of  the  win- 
dows ?  " 

"  We'll  tiy.  But  I  wish  you'd  only  thought  of 
bringing  a  ladder,  so  as  to  get  us  out  first,  before 
smoking  him." 

"  Yes,  1  wish  wo  had,"  said  Frank,  thoughtfully. 
"  But  never  mind,"  he  added,  cheerily,  "  there's 
no  use  going  back  for  one,  because,  you  se(^,  we'll 


WILD    UPROAR. 


313 


liave  yon   out  of  that  long  before  a  ladder  could 
be  bronjjjht  here." 

It  w;is  only  by  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices 
that  they  were  able  to  make;  themselves  heard  by 
one  another,  for  the  crowd  behind  the  honse  still 
kept  up  their  yells,  and  knockings,  and  thnini)ings, 
and  waited  to  hear  that  the  wild  boar  had  fled. 
As  the  time  passed  without  any  such  news,  they 
were  only  stimulated  to  fresh  efforts,  and  howled 
more  fearl'uUy  and  yelled  more  deafeningly. 

"  There's  an  awful  waste  of  energy  and  power 
about  here,  somehow,"  said  Frank.  "  There  ought 
to  be  some  way  of  getting  at  that  wretched  beast, 
without  all  this  nonsense.  Here  we  are,  — I  don't 
know  how  many  of  us,  l)ut  the  whole  population 
of  a  town,  at  any  rate,  against  one,  — and  wlmt's 
worse,  we  don't  seem  to  make  any  impression." 

Meanwhile  the  guide  had  gone  olf  among  the 
crowd,  and  while  Finnk  was  grumbling,  he  was 
busying  himself  among  them,  and  was  engaged  in 
carrying  out  a  very  brilliant  idea  that  had  just 
suggested  itself  to  him.  In  a  short  time  he  w- 
turned  with  an  armful  of  something,  the  nature 
of  which  Frank  could  not  (pute  make  out. 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Dey  are  all  handkerchiefs." 

"Handkerchiefs?" 

"Yes;  de  handkerchiefs  of  de  population  of  Al- 
bano.     Dey  are  as  many  as  de  (hiys  of  de  year." 


311 


AM()X(;    THK    nitl(;AM)S. 


"  I  should  think  so,"  cried  Frank,  in  aiiifi/.oinont. 
"  But  what  arc  you  goinj^  to  do  with  tluMn?  " 

"  Do  wit  deni  ?     I  am  going  to  !nak<;  a  snioku." 

"A  smoke?  What?  Aro  you  going  to  burn 
them  up?'' 

"  Dero  is  notin  else  to  burn  ;  ho  I  masi  burn 
what  I  can.  See,  I  make  a  1)undle  ol"  <lese.  1  .-et 
fire  to  dem.  Dey  burn — •dey  smokfj  —  and  do 
boar  smoke  out.  Aha!  ho  suflbcate  —  ho  expirtj 
—  ho  run !  " 

"  Well,  if  that  isn't  the  greatest  idea  I  ever 
heard  of!  "  cried  Frank.  "  ITandkerciiiefs  !  Why, 
you  must  have  hundreds  of  them  in  that  bundh;." 

The  guide  smiled,  and  made  no  answer.  It  wan 
a  brilliant  idea.  It  was  all  his  own.  He  was  jiroud 
of  it.  lie  was  pleased  to  tiiink  that  the  numbi-r  of 
them  was  equal  to  tho  number  of  days  in  the  year. 
Three  hundred  and  sixty-five  handkerchieis  col- 
lected from  the  good,  tho  virtuous,  the  sclf-sacri- 
ficiiig  people  of  Albano,  who  were  now  yelling  and 
l.o>v!ing  as  before,  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  and 
di\ersifying  the  uproar  by  loud  calls  and  inquiries 
about  the  wild  boar. 

The  guide  smiled  cheerily  over  the  handker- 
chiefs. Ho  was  so  proud  of  his  original  idea!  He 
went  calmly  on,  forming  them  into  a  rough  bundle, 
doing  it  very  dexterously,  so  that  the  bundie  might 
be  tight  enough  to  hold  together,  yet  loose  enouj^h 
to])urn.  Fi-ank  watched  him  curiously.  .So  did 
Bob.     So  did  Uncle  Moses.     So  did  Clive.    So  did 


FLAME. 


315 


David.  Tliroo  luiiulrofl  ami  sixty-fivo  Iwimlkor- 
eliiofrt  !     Only  tliiiik  of  it ! 

At  last  the  work  was  finished.  The  handkor- 
(•liiuls  were  rolk'd  up  into  a  h\^  hall,  looso,  yet  co- 
hesive, with  ends  hanginj^  out  in  all  directions. 

"You  had  better  bo  careful  what  you  do,"  said 
Clivo.  "  The  end  of  the  chaniher  below  is  full  of 
dry  fagots.  If  they  were  to  catch  fire,  what  would 
become  of  us  ?  " 

"  O,  alia  right."  said  the  guide.  "  Nevare  fear. 
I  trow  him  so  he  sail  not  go  near  do  wood.  IIo 
make  no  flame,  only  de  smoke.     Nevare  fear." 

At  this  the  trepidation  which  these  preparations 
liad  excited  in  the  minds  of  Clive  and  David,  de- 
parted, and  they  watched  the  subsequent  proceed- 
ings without  a  word. 

The  guide  now  took  the  bundle  which  ho  had 
formed  out  of  the  handkerchiefs  of  tiie  population 
of  Albano,  and  holding  it  under  his  left  arm,  he 
drew  forth  some  matches,  and  breaking  off  one,  he 
struck  it  against  the  sole  of  his  boot.  It  kindled. 
Thereupon  he  held  the  flame  to  the  bundle  of 
handkerchiefs.  The  flame  caught.  The  bundle 
blazed.  The  guide  held  it  for  some  time  till  the 
blaze  caught  at  one  after  another  of  the  projecting 
ends  of  the  rolled-up  handkerchiefs,  and  the  flame 
had  eaten  its  way  into  the  mass,  and  then  ventur- 
ing nearer  to  the  doorway,  he  advanced,  keeping  a 
little  on  one  side,  and  watching  for  an  opportunity 
to  throw  it  in.    Frank  followed  with  his  rusty  gun, 


316 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


Bob  with  his  pitchfork,  and  Uncle  Moses  with  his 
scythe.  All  were  ready,  either  for  attack  or  de- 
fence, and  all  the  while  the  bellowing  of  the  crowd 
behind  the  house  went  on  uninterruptedly. 

The  guide  reached  at  length  a  point  about  ten 
feet  from  the  door.  Then  he  poised  himself  and 
took  aim.     Then  he  threw  the  burning  ball. 

But  his  aim  was  bad.  The  ball  struck  the  side 
of  the  doorway,  and  fell  outside.  In  an  instant 
Frank  rushed  forward,  and  seizing  it,  throw  it  in- 
side. It  fell  on  the  floor,  and  rolled  towards  the 
foot  of  the  ladder,  where  it  lay  blazing,  and  smoul- 
dering, and  sending  forth  smoke  enough  to  satisfy 
the  most  exacting  mind. 

Then  Frank  drew  back  a  little,  poising  his  gun, 
while  Bob,  Uncle  Moses,  and  the  guide,  took  up 
their  stations  beside  him. 

The  smoke  rose  up  bravely  from  the  burning 
mass ;  but  after  all,  the  result  was  not  what  had 
been  desired.  It  rolled  up  through  the  opening 
above,  and  gathered  in  blue  masses  in  the  room 
where  Clive  and  David  were  imprisoned.  They 
felt  the  effects  of  tl.o  pungent  vapors  very  quickly, 
more  especially  in  their  eyes,  whicli  stung,  and 
smarted,  and  emitted  torrents  of  tears.  Their  only 
refuge  from  this  new  evil  was  to  thrust  th(iir  heads 
as  far  out  of  the  windows  as  was  possible  ;  and  this 
they  did  by  sitting  on  tlie  window  ledge,  clinging 
to  the  wall,  and  projecting  their  bodies  far  forward 
outside  of  the  house.     For  a  time  they  were  sus- 


SMOKING  OUT  THE  MONSTER. 


317 


tained  by  the  hope  that  their  enemy  below  was 
feehng  it  worse  than  they  were,  and  that  he  would 
soon  relax  his  vigilant  watch  and  fly.  But  alas  ! 
that  enemy  showed  no  signs  of  flight,  and  it  soon 
became  evident  to  them  and  to  those  outside,  that 
all  the  smoke  went  to  the  upper  room,  to  oppress 
the  prisoners,  and  but  little  spread  through  the 
lower  room  ;  so  little,  indeed,  that  the  wild  boar 
did  not  feel  any  inconvenience  in  particular. 

"  Can't  you  do  something?"  asked  Clive,  implor- 
ingly. 

"  We  can't  stand  this  much  longer,"  said  David, 
despairingly,  with  streaming  eyes,  and  choking 
voice. 

Their  words  sounded  faint  and  low  amidst  the 
yelling  of  the  crowd  behind  the  house,  who  still 
maintained  their  stations  there,  from  preference, 
and  kept  up  their  terrific  outcry.  Amid  the  yells 
there  came  occasional  anxious  inquiries  as  to  the 
success  of  their  efTorts.  At  times  messengers 
would  venture  from  the  rear  to  the  front  to  recon. 
noitre.  These  messengers,  however,  were  only 
few  in  number,  and  their  reconnoitring  was  of  the 
most  superficial  description  possible. 

The  latest  experiment  of  the  guide  was  the 
cause  of  more  frequent  and  more  urgent  inquirie:-. 
So  many  handkerchiefs  had  been  invested  in  this 
last  venture,  that  it  was  brought  nearer  home  thiin 
before.  Each  man  felt  that  he  was  concerned  per- 
sonally in  the  affair;  that,  in  fact,  he,  in  the  shape 


318 


AMONG   THE  BBIGAND3. 


of  a  representative  of  so  important  a  kind  as  his 
own  handkerchief,  was  already  inside,  and  assailing 
the  obstinate  monster  with  a  more  terrible  arm 
than  any  which  had  yet  been  employed  —  smoke 
and  fire. 

But  the  clamor  of  the  crowd  had  no+  30  much 
effect  on  the  little  band  in  front,  a  ♦*  dit  of 
poor  Clive  and  David,  who,  clinging  lo  tne  window 
with  their  faces  flushed,  and  their  eyes  red,  swol- 
len, and  streaming  with  tears,  appeared  unable  to 
hold  out  much  longer. 

"  Do  something  or  other,  quick,"  cried  Clive. 

"  I'll  have  to  jump  down,"  said  David. 

And  both  of  them  tried  to  push  themselves  far- 
ther out,  while  their  faces  were  turned  down,  and 
they  seemed  anxiously  measuring  with  their  eyes 
the  distance  between  themselves  and  the  ground. 


THE   LAST   APPEAL. 


319 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


The  Salamander  inaccessible  to  Fire.  —  The  last  Appeal. 

Frank  takes  Action. — He  fires.  —  Casualty  to  Frank 
and  Bob.  —  Onset  of  the  Monster.  —  Flii^ht.  —  Tremen- 
dotts  Sensation.  —  The  Guide'' s  Story.  —  Another  Legend 
of  Albano,  —  On  to  Rome. 


^^i^^S^^  some  time  Frank  had  felt  an  intolerable 
jvgj  impatience,  and  had  been  deliberating  in 
^  his  own  mind  about  the  best  way  of  ending 
I  scene  which  was  not  only  painful  to  the  poor 
prisoners,  but  humiliating  to  himself.  In  spite, 
however,  of  the  immense  odds  in  favor  of  the 
attacking  party,  Frank  could  not  think  of  any  way 
of  making  those  odds  available  under  present  cir- 
cumstances, when  the  last  i)laintive  appeal  and 
the  desperate  proposal  of  Clivo  and  David  came  to 
his  ears.  He  saw  that  they  were  suffering  tortures 
from  the  smoke,  that  they  could  not  endure  it 
mucii  longer,  and  that  they  would  have  to  make  a 
descent  from  the  window.  To  prevent  this,  and 
the  danger  that  might  result  from  it,  Frank  re- 
solved upon  immediate  action. 

So  he  grasj>ed  his    rusty  fowHng-piece  with  a 


320 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


deadly  purpose,  and  rushed  to  the  narrow  door- 
way of  the  old  house.  Bob  followed  at  once  with 
his  pitchfork,  resolved  to  go  wherever  Frank  led 
the  way,  and  to  stand  by  him  at  all  hazards.  The 
guide  stood  looking  on.  Uncle  Moses  also  stood 
still,  and  made  a  feeble  attempt  to  order  ti  e  two 
boys  back ;  but  his  words  were  neither  heard  nor 
heeded.  At  this  David  and  Clive  stopped  in  their 
desperate  design,  and  looked  down  at  Frank  and 
Bob. 

Frank  stood  by  the  doorway. 

He  put  his  head  inside,  and  looked  all  around, 
cautiously,  yet  resolutely.  The  interior,  however, 
was  always  a  dark  place ;  and  now  the  fumes  of 
blue  smoke  made  it  yet  darker.  But  though  his 
eyes  saw  nothing  of  the  fierce  beast,  his  cars  could 
detect  the  rustle  and  the  crackle  which  were  pro- 
duced by  the  motion  of  something  among  the 
fagots.  This  noise  showed  him  plainly  where  it 
must  be. 

Thereupon  he  hesitated  no  longer. 

He  raised  his  rusty  fowling-piece  to  his 
shoulder ! 

He  took  deadly  aiml 

He  fired  I 

Bang ! ! ! 

The  flash  illumined  the  dark  interior,  and  the 
smoke  from  the  gun  united  with  the  smoke  that 
was  already  there.  But  simultaneous  with  the 
bang  and  the  flash,  Frank  felt  himself  hurled  back- 


CASUALTY  TO   FRANK  AND   BOB. 


321 


ward,  and  to  the  ground,  knocked  down  by  the 
recoil  of"  the  gun,  flat  on  his  back. 

Up  rushed  Bob,  full  of  the  deepest  anxiety. 

But  just  as  he  reached  the  prostrate  form  of 
Frank,  there  was  a  hurried  clatter  from  within, 
and  then  —  down  he  also  went  —  head  first  —  over 
and  over  —  struck  down  by  some  rushing  figure 
that  had  emerged  from  the  pile  of  fagots,  burst 
through  the  doorway,  and  was  now  careering 
wildly  over  the  fields. 

tJncle  Moses  saw  that  figure,  and  then  hurried 
up  to  his  two  prostrate  boys. 

David  and  Clive  from  their  stations  at  the  win- 
dow saw  it,  and  then  instantly  hurried  down  the 
ladder,  and  out  of  the  house,  where  they  stood 
panting  and  staring  wildly  at  vacancy. 

The  guide  saw  it,  and  as  he  saw  it  there  came 
over  his  face  an  expression  of  an  utterly  inde- 
scribable kind.  He  clasped  his  hands  together, 
and  then  uttered  a  series  of  exclamations  for  which 
the  English  language,  or  indeed  any  other  lan- 
guage but  the  Italian,  can  afford  no  equivalent. 

While  he  was  thus  standing  with  clasped  hands, 
vociferating  and  staring,  in  company  with  David 
and  Clive,  at  the  receding  figure,  Frank  had 
sprung  to  his  feet,  and  so  had  Bob  ;  Uncle  Moses, 
too,  stood  gazing  at  the  object  of  universal  in- 
terest; and  thus  all  of  them  stood  staring,  with 
feelings  that  defy  description,  at  the  scene  before 
them. 

21 


322 


AMONG    THE   BRIGANDS. 


What  was  this  scene  tliat  thus  held  their  gaze  ? 

Well,  in  the  iirst  place,  there  was  that  valley, 
already  so  familiar  to  David  and  Clivo  — a  smooth 
slope  on  either  side,  some  olive  trees  near,  but 
beyond  that  all  bare,  and  no  houses  visible  in  that 
direction.  Now,  over  this  open  space  there  was 
running  —  so  swift  and  so  straight  that  it  was 
evidently  impelled  by  pain  or  panic  —  what  ? 

A  little  black  pig  1 

A  pig,  small,  as  has  just  been  said,  an  ordinary 
domestic  pig  —  of  no  particular  breed  —  the  com- 
monest of  animals.  Moreover,  it  was  black.  It 
was  also,  undoubtedly,  as  has  just  been  remarked, 
either  suffering  from  some  of  the  shot  of  Frank's 
rusty  gun,  or  from  tlie  terror  that  might  have  been 
excited  by  its  report.  And  now  this  little  black 
pig  was  running  as  fast  as  its  absurd  little  legs 
could  carry  it  —  far  away  across  the  fields. 

"  0,  holy  saints  1  "  cried  the  guide ;  "  it's  the 
little  black  pig,  that  wo  missed  from  the  convent 
yesterday  morning  —  the  pig  —  the  little  black 
pig — the  pig  —  the  pig  1  Is  it  possible?  0,  is 
it  possible  ?  " 

Every  word  of  this  was  heard  by  the  boys. 
They  understood  it  all  now.  It  seemed  also  that 
the  little  black  pig,  having  accomplished  as  much 
mischief  as  any  single  pig  can  ever  hope  to  bring 
about,  was  evidently  making  the  best  of  its  way  to 
its  home,  and  steering  straight  for  the  convent. 
This  they  saw,  and  they  gazed  in  silence.   Nothing 


THE   GUIDES   STORY. 


323 


was  said,  for  nothing  could  be  snid.  Tliey  could 
not  even  look  at  one  auother.  David  and  Clive 
were  of  course  the  most  crest  fallen ;  but  the 
others  had  equal  cause  for  humiliation.  After  all 
their  gigantic  preparations,  their  cautious  advances, 
and  their  final  blow, —  to  find  their  antagonist 
reduced  to  this  was  too  much.  Now,  the  fact  is, 
that  if  it  had  really  been  a  wild  boar,  Frank's  act 
would  have  been  the  same  ;  and  as  he  acted  under 
the  belief  that  it  was  so,  it  was  undoubtedly  daring, 
and  plucky,  and  self-sacrificing  ;  but,  unfortunately, 
the  conclusion  of  the  affair  did  not  allow  him  to 
look  upon  it  in  that  light. 

Now,  all  this  time  the  crowd   behind  the  house 
maintained  their  shouts  and  outcries.     Under  the 
circumstances,    this    uproar    became    shockingly 
absurd,  and  out  of  place;  so  the  guide  hastened  to 
put  an  end  to  it.     On  the  whole,  ho  thought  it  was 
not  worth   while   to  tell   the  truth,  for  the  truth 
would  have  so  excited  the  good  people  of  Alba- 
no,  that  they  would,  undoubtedly,  have  taken  ven- 
geance on  the  strangers  for  such  a  disgrace  as  this. 
Therefore  the  guide  decided   to  let  his  fancy  play 
around  the  actual  fact,  and    thus  it  was  that  the 
guide's  story  became  an  idealized  version. 
It  was  something  to  the  following  effect : — 
The  terrible  wild  boar,  he  said,  had  been  com- 
pletely indifferent  to  their  outcry,  or  had,  perhaps, 
boon  afraid  to  come  forth  and  flice  so  many  ene- 
mies.    He  (the  guide)  had  therefore  determined 


324 


AJIONO    THK   BRIGANDS. 


to  try  to  smoke  lii/ii  out,  and  had  borrowed  their 
handkerchiefs  for  that  purpose,  as  there  were  no 
other  combustibles  to  be  had.  Of  tliis  they  were 
ah'eady  aware.  He  had  tied  these  liandkerchiefs 
together  in  such  a  way  that  they  would  burn,  and 
after  setting  fire  to  them,  had  hurled  the  blazing 
mass  into  the  house.  There  it  emitted  its  sti- 
fling fumes  till  they  confused,  suffocated,  fright- 
ened, and  confounded  the  lurking  wild  boar.  Then, 
in  the  midst  of  this,  the  heroic  youth,  armed  with 
his  gun,  rushed  forward  and  poured  the  deadly 
contents  of  his  piece  into  the  body  of  the  beast. 
Had  it  been  any  other  animal,  it  would  undoubted- 
ly have  perished  ;  but  the  wild  boar  has  a  hide  like 
sheet  iron,  and  this  one  was  merely  irritated  by 
the  shot.  Still,  though  not  actually  wounded,  he 
was  enraged,  and  at  the  same  time  frightened.  In 
his  rage  and  fear  he  started  from  his  lurking-place  ; 
he  bounded  forth,  and  made  a  savage  attack  upon 
the  party  in  front  of  the  house.  They  stood  their 
ground  firmly  and  heroically,  and  beat  him  off; 
whereupon,  in  despair,  he  turned  and  fled,  van- 
quished, to  his  lair  in  the  Alban  tunnel. 

In  this  way  the  guide's  vivid  imagination  saved 
the  travellers  from  the  fury  of  the  Alban  people, 
by  preventing  that  fury,  and  supplying  in  its  place 
self-complacency.  The  Alban  people  felt  satisfied 
with  themselves  and  with  this  story.  They  ac- 
cepted it  as  undoubted  ;  they  look  it  to  their  homes 
and  to  their  hearts  ;  they  enlarged,  adorned,  ini- 


THE   guide's   story. 


325 


proved,  and  lengthened  it  out,  until,  finally,  it 
ussumcd  the  amplest  proportion,  and  became  one 
of  the  most  popular  legends  of  the  place.  What 
is  still  more  wonderl'ul,  this  very  guide,  who  had 
firs^t  created  it,  told  it  so  often  to  parties  of  tourists, 
that  he  at  length  grew  to  believe  every  word  of  it 
himself;  and  the  fact  that  he  had  been  an  actor  in 
that  scene  never  failed  to  make  his  story  quite 
credible  to  his  hearers. 

At  this  time,  however,  ho  had  not  advanced  so 
far,  and  he  was  able  to  tell  the  actual  facts  of  the 
case  to  the  boys  and  Uncle  Moses. 

They  were  these :  — 

At  the  convent  they  kept  a  number  of  pigs,  and 
on  the  previous  day,  early  in  the  morning,  they 
had  missed  the  very  anin)al  which  had  created  this 
extraordinary  scene.  He  had  escaped  in  some 
way  from  his  pen,  and  had  fled  for  parts  unknown. 
They  had  searched  for  him,  but  in  vain.  He  must 
have  wandered  to  this  old  house  at  the  first,  and 
taken  up  his  quarters  here  until  he  was  so  rudely 
driven  out  from  them.  The  guide  could  only  hope 
that  the  little  black  pig  would  learn  a  lesson  from 
this  of  the  evils  of  running  away  from  home. 

To  all  this  the  boys  listened  without  any  interest 
whatever,  and  did  not  condescend  to  make  any 
remarks.  The  guide  himself  became  singularly 
uninteresting  in  their  eyes,  and  they  got  rid  of 
him  as  soon  as  possible,  paying  him  liberally,  how- 
over,  for  the  additional  trouble  to  which  they  had 


326 


AMONG   THE   BRIGANDS. 


put  him.  ,  Uncle  Moses  also  had  some  words  of 
remonstrance,  mingled  with  congratulation,  to  ofler 
to  David  and  Clivc  ;  but  these  also  were  heard  in 
silence.  They  might  have  found  ample  excuse  for 
their  delay  in  this  ruined  house ;  but  they  did  not 
feel  inclined  to  offer  any  excuses  whatever. 

The  fact  is,  this  reduction  of  the  great  wild 
boar  to  the  very  insignificant  proportions  of  a  little 
black  pig  —  commonplace,  paltry,  and  altogether 
contemptible  —  was  too  much  for  their  sensitive 
natures.  It  had  placed  them  all  in  a  false  position. 
They  were  not  cowards,  but  they  had  all  been 
alarmed  by  the  most  despicaule  of  animals.  Frank 
felt  profoundly  humiliated,  and  reflected,  with  a 
blush,  upon  the  absurd  figure  that  he  had  made  of 
himself  in  hesitating  so  long  before  such  an  ene- 
my, and  then  advancing  upon  it  in  such  a  way. 
Bob's  feelings  were  very  similar.  But  it  was  for 
David  and  Clive  that  the  deepest  mortification 
was  reserved.  They  had  been  the  cause  of  it  all. 
It  was  their  vivid  imaginations  which  had  con- 
jured up  out  of  nothing  a  terrible  wild  beast, 
which  had  kept  them  prisoners  there  for  hours 
in  loneliness  and  hunger,  and  which  had  thrown 
ridicule  u[)on  the  population  of  Albano,  by  draw- 
ing them  forth  to  do  battle  with  one  poor  little 
harmless  runaway  pig. 

As  they  walked  back  to  the  hotel,  they  kept  far 
in  the  rear  of  the  citizens  of  Albano;  and  Uncle 
Moses  began  to  "  improve "  the  occasion,  and 
raorali/ed  in  a  solemn  strain. 


UNCLE    MO.SES    REMONSTRATES. 


327 


"  Will,"  siiid  lie,  "  my  dour  i)oys,  T  must  nay  that 
you  hcv  one  iind  siil  tlio  greatest  talent  for  gittin' 
yourselves  into  trouble  that  I  ever  see.  Ever 
Honco  we  laudeil  on  th(ise  ill-fated  shores  you've 
ben  a-goin'  it,  and  a  drivin'  of  me  wild  with  anxiety  ; 
and  the  only  thing  1  can  say  is,  that  thus  far  your 
misadventoors  hain't  turned  out  so  bad  as  I  have 
feared  in  each  individdool  case.  In  fact  thar's 
alius  ben  what  they  call  a  anticlimax  ;  that  is,  jest 
at  the  moment  when  thar'd  ought  to  be  a  te-rific 
di-saster,  thar's  bon  nothin'  but  some  trivial  or 
laughcrble  tniniriination.  Now,  I'm  free  to  confess, 
boys,  that  thus  far  my  fears  liev  ben  gcrroundless. 
I'm  free  to  say  that  thus  lar  thar  hain't  ben  what 
we  can  conscuentiously  call  a  accident.  But  what 
of  that?  The  incidents  hev  all  l)cn  thar.  Every 
individdool  thing  that  can  make  a  accident  has  ben 
thar — it's  ony  the  conclusion  that  has  somehow 
broke  down.  And  now  I  ask  you,  boys,  what  air 
we  goin'  to  do  about  it?  Is  this  to  go  on  forever? 
Is  it  perrobable  that  advuss  circumstances  air 
goin'  to  alius  eventooato  thus?  I  don't  believe  it. 
The  pitcher  that  goes  often  to  the  fountain  is  broke 
at  last,  and  (U'pen<l  upon  it,  if  you  7;o  for  to  carry 
on  this  way,  and  thrust  yourselves  in  every  danger 
that  comes  in  your  way  —  somethin'll  ha{)pen  — 
mind  I  tell  you." 

This,  and  much  more  of  the  same  sort,  did  Uncle 
Moses  say  ;  but  to  all  of  it  the  boys  paid  very  little 
attention.     In  fact,  the  subject  was  to  all  of  them 


328 


AMONG   TIIK    BRICANDS. 


80  painful  a  one,  that  they  could  not  bear  to  have 
it  brouj^ht  forward  even  as  the  text  of  a  sornion. 
They  only  wanted  to  forget  all  about  it  an  Hoon  hh 
possible,  and  let  it  sink  into  complete  oblivion. 

On  reaching  the  hotel  they  found  that  it  was 
quite  late  ;  but  they  were  eager  to  go  on.  Albano, 
the  historic,  had  lost  all  its  charms  for  them.  They 
did  not  wish  to  remain  a  moment  longer.  They 
could  not  hope  now  to  seo  Rome  to  advantage,  lor 
the  daylight  would  be  over  long  before  ^y  could 
enter  the  city;  still  they  were  determi  o  go  on 

to  Rome,  even  if  they  had  to  enter  it  uiier  dark. 
Accordingly,  the  cairiage  was  made  ready  as  soon 
as  possible ;  Clive  and  David  procured  some  frag- 
ments of  food,  which  they  took  into  the  carriage 
with  them,  to  devour  on  their  way ;  and  thus  they 
left  Albano,  and  drove  on  to  Rome. 


